Luthando

“Luthando, it is so late and you are sitting alone in the darkness. What’s wrong with you?” 

My mom walks into the TV room where I am sitting on a three-seater couch in my pyjamas, enjoying the silence and darkness of 2:30am. 

“Mama, I thought you were fast asleep.” 

“And I thought you were resting. You were complaining about a headache not too long ago.” 

“Yeah. But I can’t sleep a wink. My mind is all over the place.” 

“Let me make us some tea and we can maybe talk?”

I smile her. She is such a sweetie-pie. 

“Let me make you the tea, my mommy.” 

I get up from the couch and make my way to the kitchen. Mama starts cutting some chocolate cake while I make us some coffee. Once the tea is ready and there is cake on side plates, mama and I settle around the table in the kitchen and enjoy our early morning snack. 

“So, what’s bothering you?” She asks me. 

“I just miss my husband, mama. I miss him so much. I hate that I cannot even see him. What is this punishment that he’s on that no one can go see him for three months? Three months yonke, mama?” 

“Luthando – 

“And at work, mama… Something is off about all these benefits that I have. No one else has these benefits where the company pays for their children’s fees. I’m the only one.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Because mama, employees complain about everything. They complain about remuneration and benefits all the time. If there ever was an ungrateful race in this world, it would be the human race. If this was a benefit for all employees, someone would have found something to complain about regarding this benefit.” 

“Well, George has always been proud of taking care of you financially. He would never keep that a secret.” 

“Exactly mama. Which means there might be something fishy about where the money is coming from that he doesn’t want me to know about.” 

“Has your husband ever made money legally or ethically? Come on, Luthando.” 

A silence arises between us. 

“So, why don’t you ask HR? HR knows everything. Or check your payslip and ask HR to take you through how the benefits are allocated on your payslip.” My mom suggests. 

I nod my head in agreement. 

“Mama, if George can arrange to still take care of us from behind bars… does that sound like someone who could be punished in prison to the extent of not having visiting or cellphone privileges? Something doesn’t add up here.” 

“Why don’t you phone the correctional services and ask? They’ll give you information. You are his wife, so I’m sure they’ll be able to tell you something.” My mom says. 

I nod my head again. 

“You have bigger things to worry about, Luthando. UBuhle and uSlindokuhleare dating rich old men who bring them home in very expensive cars.” My mom tells me. 

What? 

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m telling you, Luthando. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. These girls are seeking attention. They need you to be present in their lives now more than ever. I’m worried about your girls.” 

“Yaz, I don’t need this in my life. I really don’t.”

“It’s the same trauma you put me through. Nawe you were like this when you met George. That’s more reason why only you can get through to them. If there’s anyone who can sort them out and help them through whatever they are going through, it’s you.” 

…

I have decided to make breakfast for my kids this morning. I need to talk to these kids of mine. Bonke is the first person to come into the kitchen and he runs to hug me. My son is my favourite child at the moment. His two sisters on the other hand…

“Good morning, my boy.” 

“Good morning, mommy. It smells nice in here. What are you making?” 

“A full English breakfast and some pancakes.”

“Yum! We must hurry up and eat because I don’t want to eat in the car when we go to Gold Reef City”. 

Now that he mentions it, he is quite dressed up. 

“Who are you going to Gold Reed City with instead of spending the Saturday with your mommy?” 

“My sisters.” He says.

“And whose car are you using to get there?” 

“I’m not allowed to tell.” He says. 

“So you keep secrets from your mommy now?” 

“I’m not allowed to tell, mommy. I made a promise to my sisters. Please don’t make me tell.” 

I see. 

“Nobuhle! Slindokuhle! Come here, now!” I yell. 

Silence. 

“Nobuhle!” 

“Mah, I’m coming.” 

“Slindokuhle!” 

“I’m here mommy”. 

My daughters walk in looking like models of note. I look at them. I study them from head to toe. 

“Hlalani phansi”, I say. 

They sit down and dig into the breakfast. 

“Kuyiwaphi?” I ask. 

“Gold Reef City”, Slindo tells me. 

“With who?” I ask. 

They both look at Bonke. 

“I didn’t tell!” Bonke defends himself. 

“Your grandmother tells me that you have people coming to fetch you and drop you off after school? Care to explain?” 

“They are friends, mama.” 

“Friends?” 

“Yes mom.”

“I’d like to meet them.” 

They stare at me in shock. 

“You clearly spend a lot of time with them and I would like to meet them and perhaps meet their parents.” I say. 

They mumble something under their breaths. 

“Excuse me?” I grab their attention. 

“Nothing mah”. Slindo. 

“Then there is no Gold Reef City”, I say. 

There is protest – even from Bonke. I look at them, unfazed. 

“Call your friends. They have thirty minutes to get here.” 

After thirty minutes, two white men walk into my mom’s kitchen. One of them looks like he is about my age and the other looks – off. They give me a weird vibe. I don’t like them. 

“I’m Lutha, Buhle’s and Slindo’s mother.” I extend my hand to shake their hand. 

“I’m Kique Aguero”, one says to me, accepting my hand. Then he continues to say, “And I have very good intentions with your daughter, Mrs M. I love Boosh-le very much.” 

I look at Buhle who we now apparently refer to as Boosh-le. She already knows that I am not impressed. He has a very strong accent as well. He sounds Spanishlike Sergio. 

I look at the other man in the room, extend my hand towards him and say, “And you must be?” 

“I am Christopher Smith. I am best friends with Kique, so we all spend a lot of time together.” He sounds very British. I suddenly appreciate the Zakhele character that I met as Slindo’s boyfriend. I have never wished, more than right now, that he just shows up unannounced and makes whatever is about to happen not happen.

“I believe you are headed out with my kids?” I ask these gentlemen.

“Yes ma’am. It’s really for Bonke. We want him to have some fun, so we will be making this a family outing. You are welcome to join us if you wish.” Kique says. 

“No thank you. Please just have my kids home no later than 7pm. I’d really appreciate that.” 

They agree and leave. 

I am a mother. I have teenage daughters dating men who are a bit suspicious, so I go to the one person who can help me now that my husband is in prison and thus resulting in me being a single mother. 

I asked Sydney, my boss, to please meet me at the office because I really need his help. So I have just arrived in the office today to meet with him. He is already here waiting for me when I arrive. Taxis are not as quick over weekends. 

“Are you alright?” He asks me as I settle in one of the chairs in his office. 

“I need your help, Mr Ramagoshi. Please.” 

“Okay?”

I take a sip of water. 

“My daughters are dating.” 

He chuckles. 

“But not teenage dating. Like, they are dating people I believe are too old for them and slightly dangerous for my liking.” 

He looks at me. 

“I’m on my own here. I haven’t spoken to George in a very long time. I was turned away from seeing him in prison, told that he is not allowed visitors for three months. I’m not coping and I thank you for the role that you are playing in paying for my children’s fees. I know it’s not a company benefit. Thank you for that.” 

He is just looking at me now, as if feeling sorry for me. 

“I’ll be fine. I just need you to get rid of these boys before they send my kids to hell.” 

“You haven’t spoken to George?” 

I shake my head. He nods his head. 

“Do you want to see him?” 

I nod, getting emotional. 

“I’ll make a plan. Who are these boys I need to chase away?” 

“Kique, Zakhele and Christopher.” 

The shock on his face! 

“Kique Aguero, Zakhele Mthiyane and Christopher Smith?” 

I nod my head in hesitation. I don’t know Zakhele’s surname, so I hope I’m not submitting the wrong identification here.

“I’ll sort it out. Come on, let me take you home.” 

He gets his driver to drive me home. Thank God for his friendship with George. I’m so thankful. For the first time ever, I don’t feel alone. 

…

George

I had another session with Sindi today and I will not lie, she keeps me alive. She makes my stay here hopeful and she gives me something to look forward to. I miss my Lutha. But she is not built like Sindi. She is soft. I’m not in a position to give her hope and strengthen her. I need to be given hope and be strengthenedmyself. She has her mother and unemployed family members that will help her. She will be okay. 

I’m lying on my bed and SMS chatting with Sindi when my door opens and Ramagoshi walks in. I get up to shake his hand and accept him when he punches me back to my bed and sees my lip bleeding.

What the hell? 

“When was the last time you spoke to your wife?” He asks me – shouts at me actually. 

“What’s it to you?” I bark back because business partners or not, my wife is none of his business. 

“What’s it to me?! What’s it to me?! Your daughters are running around with Kique Aguero, Zakhele Mthiyane and Christopher Smith. She has to come to me to help her parent these kids because you are more concerned about fucking Sindi instead of being a fucken husband! She’s down for you. She is worried sick about you and dealing with raising your kids! Wena you are here being a deadbeat and douche bag, fucking your residential slut!” As he shouts this, I’m falling to my bed and hanging my head in shame. My daughters are what? With who? 

“Phone your wife!” He says to me. 

I look at him. I’m just…

“We gave you that phone so you can still be a fucken man, not a senseless whore. You can do what you want with Sindi, but don’t you dare let Lutha suffer in exchange for whatever deal you have with your whore. Phone Luthando right now and for once in your fucken life, ask her how she’s holding up. Ask her how her day was. And actually co-parent with her!” 

I am silent. I feel like crying, but him doing this to me while I’m locked up has already emasculated me. 

“Next week, I’m bringing her here to see you. This shit stops now. Do you understand me?” 

I just nod my head. 

He leaves. 

It is 10pm. I call my wife. It rings unanswered. I try again, she still doesn’t answer. Then the third time…

“Hello?” She sounds like she has been asleep. 

“Mkami”, I say to her. 

She is silent. 

“Baby?” Is she still there? 

She starts sobbing. 

“Don’t do that, Luthando. Come on, my love.” This is exactly what I did not want. This is exactly why I kept her away. I cannot deal with her falling apart right now. 

“Can you come and see me?” 

She is still crying. 

“Lutha… Mrs Maluleke, I love you. Please come and see me and come alone, okay?”

“Okay. I love you, George.” She says to me. 

“Lala kahle, Mkami. I love you, baby.” 

“Good night myeni wami.”