We haven’t slept one bit since Palesa and Ziwe went missing. All we know is that they were taken outside of a doctor’s office. We found the car that Palesa was driving abandoned. Palesa pressed the panic button which alerted the church and Banathi that she was in trouble. But we got there too late. There wasn’t any blood, so at least they didn’t kill her. When we hacked the security footage around the area, we just saw people we’ve never even seen before taking them. We ran their ID using their faces off the footage and prints from the car – showing that they aren’t professionals at this at all – and all we know is that they are foreigners, don’t belong to a syndicate, and usually traffic people and children for other syndicates or illegal organisations. Banathi is obviously shaken by this. 

None of us can even talk to our wives about this. We’ve been banned from discussing such matters with our wives. Katli and Puseletso know, but we’ve asked them to trust us. We will bring their sister back. It’s been two weeks since they’ve been gone though, and honestly, I’m beginning to panic. 

“Palesa is a survivor. She promised me that she’s a survivor. She promised me that she’d never let me bury her. She promised me. So, I know that wherever she is, she is surviving and she will come back home”, Banathi says. 

Ntuthuko and I look at each other, then we look at him.

Pope comes into the lounge area that we are chilling at. 

“We’ve raided more than ten warehouses in Johannesburg after we found that these people left the border”, he says.

“How did they get past the border?” I ask.

“Reahile is dealing with that inadequacy as we speak. We need to focus on finding them”, Pope says.

“This would be better if they sent us ransom threats. They’ve been mum”, Ntuthuko says. 

“I can help”, Katli says.

We really don’t need this kid involved in this. We don’t. 

“Please. She’s my sister. Please let me help”, Katli says.

Banathi stands up, walks to him, puts his hand on his shoulder trying very hard to be strong, then he says, “Katli, I’m responsible for all of you now. When I told you that I want you to be a kid when you live here, I meant it. I’ll find Palesa. I know how much she means to you. I love her too. She’s my wife”.

“I want Ziwe too. Ziwe is my baby sister. I need to find her. She relies on me to –

Banathi pulls him into a hug. Katli starts crying. 

Eish. 

“I should’ve gone with them. I shouldn’t have let them go alone”, Katli says while crying.

“You had to go to school. You had to be a kid. Not the man of the house”, Banathi says while hugging him. 

Katli eventually stops crying then says, “Palesa is smart. She will come out of this alive. And I know for a fact that she won’t let anything happen to Ziwe”. 

…

“At least this load shedding shit is happening while they are asleep. Else, how else would we monitor their movements?” A whisper.

“How long is it again? Because by the morning, the electricity should be back. I mean right now, the gates are not working because they are electricity-operated. It’s dangerous.” Another whisper.

“Let’s make sure that security is alert. We will ask for extra men if we have to”, a whisper. 

I’ve been kidnapped for two weeks now – myself and Ziwe. Ziwe is so scared. I’ve had to be strong to give her hope. I’ve been trying to find ways to escape, but the security is so tight, and someone is always watching. All I’ve managed to do is steal R1000 from the back pocket of one of the men that feed us while he was bent over trying to revive Maria. Maria and her two-month-old son were kidnapped and in a cell with Ziwe and I. I don’t know what happened to Maria. But they’ve taken her out of here – that day that she collapsed – and they left us with her child. At least they make sure we always have formula to feed him and nappies to change him. 

I’ve heard some chatter between these guys that we are to be trafficked. And I’m very very scared. 

“Oh shit. Rain”, a whisper again. 

I think they are standing right outside our window, because I can really hear their gossip. 

“Let’s go get shelter in the office. We will call back up security from there”, the other whisper says.

They think we are sleeping.

It’s raining.

Security is minimal right now. 

After two weeks and a stolen R1000, God is opening these gates for me.

“Ziwe”, I whisper. 

She opens one eye.

“I think we can run out of here now”, I say.

She gets up and sits up, ready to run.

“We can’t leave the baby”, she says.

Yes, she’s really bonded with this child that we don’t even know the name to. 

I don’t have time to argue.

I go through the baby bag in here with his nappies, formula, bottles and hot water in a flask. 

There is a towel.

I get up and strap this baby on my back. He’s fast asleep anyway. I use a safety pin to make sure that he’s put. 

I wish I knew where we were at least. 

I cover the baby with a heavy blanket. 

I hold Ziwe’s hand. 

She cooperates with me.

I was taking Ziwe to a doctor when they captured us. They hijacked us, but took us with the car. At first, I thought we were going to an ATM so we empty our accounts. Nope, we were brought here. This place looks like a prison. And we’ve been kept in cells. 

Ziwe and I are on the other side of the door now. Outside that is. It’s raining. We don’t have shoes. 

I decide to bring the baby down from my back and strap her to my front. Five-year-old Ziwe gets on my back. I use the lighter blanket to cover Ziwe and the heavier blanket to cover the baby. 

It starts pouring.

I move as fast as I can away from the main warehouse. And I actually get far. 

The rain intensifies and like a true Tholoana Kingdom makoti, I conquer it. 

There is a back gate that I use to leave here. It’s not chained or anything. I just push it and walk out. 

A part of me feels like this is a trap. But I continue to take the risk. It’s dark. It’s raining. 

“Ziwe, are you still fine?” I check in.

“I’m fine”, she whispers. 

The baby is still asleep. 

After what feels like hours, I reach civilisation. It looks like I’m in Limpopo. And I say this because I see a sign that reads Polokwane. 

I see about two taxis in a complex of a mall. 

I run there. 

“Thobela”, I greet as I see the taxi drivers.

They are not even in the mood to greet me. One of them tells me he needs two passengers so the taxi could go to Johannesburg. I put Ziwe down from my back. 

“Go in”, he says, pointing the front seat. 

Ziwe heads in. I follow behind her, leaving the baby bag behind. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I think it’s bugged. I took the formula and water though. 

The taxi takes off. 

We pay our fare. I’m using this R1000, and I’m hoping that it will at least see me to Tholoana Kingdom. 

The baby is awake now, so I feed him the bottle. 

“May I use your phone please?” I ask the lady next to me, offering her R50.  

She pulls the phone out of her boobs and gives it to me, accepting my R50.

I dial my husband’s number.

“Hello?” He answers instantly.

“B, it’s me. I’m in a taxi going to Johannesburg Park Station. Ziwe is with me.”

“How long?” 

“We just left Polokwane”, I say.

“Okay baby. Can you talk?” 

“No.” Me.

“Okay. At least tell me you guys are okay”, he says.

“We are”, I say.

“Okay”, he says.

We hang up. 

I delete his number. 

I return the phone. 

The ride is long. But because it’s night time, people are quiet and sleepy. I’m too paranoid to sleep. I need to see the way so I know that the taxi driver is not part of these guys. 

–

We arrive in park station. 

I tell Ziwe to get on my back. She obliges. Here, you can never be too careful. I have the baby in my front. 

Hands grab me. 

I scream! 

“Sisi, yimi”, Ntuthuko says, putting his hands up in surrender. 

The relief that comes over me…. I start crying. 

I feel Banathi’s hands pull me into a hug. I even hear Ziwe cry as Mnqobi takes her off my back. Someone else takes the baby. 

“Come baby, let’s get out of here.” Banathi says, pulling me towards some car. 

Ziwe ate and slept. The car is still moving. 

“And then? The baby?” Mnqobi asks. Everyone has been pressed to ask but didn’t know how to. 

I explain how we ended up running with the baby. 

“What are we supposed to do with this child now?” Banathi asks me.

“Check ups at a hospital”, I say.

“And after that?” Mnqobi says. 

“I don’t know”, I say.

The guys look at each other.

“Try get some rest, baby.” Banathi says to me.

“I can’t sleep. I don’t know why. I haven’t been able to sleep”, I say.

They look at me as if they are worried. 

“I don’t think this was related to the church”, I say about an hour into our drive.

The gents look at me.

“Based on the conversations that I heard those guys have, they kidnap people and children for a client that traffics women and children. Even their security was bad. It took load shedding and rain for us to escape.” I say.

“Do you remember where you were?” Ntuthuko asks me.

“Limpopo, for sure. And I could walk to Polokwane mall with the kids. It was probably a 15km walk, so it’s close to there. We left using the back gate. It’s a building. The inside looks like a prison. We were kept in prison cells, but no other prisoners were there. It was just us – the kidnapped people. I don’t know what they did with my car”, I say.

“We found your car.” Banathi says.

I nod my head.

“Babe, the women don’t know about your kidnapping because –

“I got it. I won’t tell anyone about this”, I say. 

It’s not like I enjoy talking about it. 

“And these kidnappers were nice. They fed us decent food all the time. I mean, they left this baby with Ziwe and I with a bag full of essentials. So, they are human, not professional and calculated criminals”, I say. 

“Okay. Love, you need to rest. You need to sleep.” Nathi says.

“Let’s get the baby some medical attention first. I’ll maybe sleep once we are at home”, I say. 

I notice how these guys are looking at Banathi weird about this new baby that I’ve brought. 

I pretend to not notice. Honestly, I also don’t have a plan for this baby. 

…

It’s been two days since I’ve been back at home. I’m still struggling to sleep. The baby cries a lot less too. The doctors cleared him. They just called him Baby Khuzwayo. We still don’t have a name. We don’t know if he’s ours or what. 

It’s 1:45am and I’m sitting up in my bed. It’s dark. Nathi is asleep. The baby is in a cot that used to belong to Ziwe. The helpers unpacked Ziwe’s old nursery and set it up for the baby. Thank goodness they are gender neutral. 

“Palesa?” I hear Nathi say.

I really didn’t mean to wake him up.

Every time I close my eyes, my heart beats too fast in fear. 

“Baby yini? Why aren’t you sleeping?” He asks me.

“I can’t sleep, Banathi. It’s fine, I’ll go sit in the TV room”, I say. 

“Palesa, come on, baby. Help me out here. Talk to me. How can I make it better for you? I want you to get better. I can see that you are not okay”, he says. 

“I was scared, B. I was scared that I wouldn’t survive. I was scared that… I promised you that I’m a survivor. I promised you that if there’s one thing I’d do for you is I’d survive for you. Nathi, you were shattered when Nothando passed. I was scared I’d put you through all that pain again. And you know that I love you too much to hurt you… especially like that.” I say.

“But love, you survived. You know, I was stressed. I couldn’t sleep. But my heart reminded me that I married a fighter… and a fighter that never gives up and always conquers. When you phoned to tell me that you are headed to Park Station, i lit impepho and thanked my ancestors and God that the woman they sent my way this time survived. You came back to me. You came back with our daughter. And you even brought me a new baby”, he says, and we both laugh at this. 

“Awung’tshele ke, Mam’Khuzwayo, what are we going to do with this child?” He asks me.

“I don’t know. Ziwe didn’t want us to leave him there. And shame, they would’ve put him in a worse place. I wish I knew where his family comes from at least. I just know that his mother was Maria, and she was abducted from eDutshwa. I don’t know more than that. I don’t know if I’m ready for a small baby. I’ve always thought that Ziwe was our baby, you know?” Me.

“Okay. That’s a relief. Because I really don’t want another baby around here. I’m too old for a new baby”, he says.

We laugh.

“I’ll get one of my boys to find his family”, he says.

“Thank you. Not just for that, but for being you. And for choosing me”, I say.

He kisses. 

“Now, let’s try sleep. Do you need me to give you space gummies?” He says.

I nod my head. 

He pulls out a container of gummies. He gives a gummy. 

It doesn’t take long for the gummy to knock me out. 

…

It’s been a challenging three months, but I’m glad that my wife is fine now… well almost there. She still has her episodes and needs some gummies to sleep. But for the most part, she’s back. We managed to find the family of that baby they came with. Ey, I was so stressed that I’d need to be a dad all over again. And I was not ready. There’s a reason why a baby bakes for nine months. Every second of that nine months is pivotal when preparing for a baby. It seems that the biological mother was abducted while pregnant – the way Ziwe and Palesa were taken. She managed to escape and come back home. But what I didn’t understand is how she ran but left her kid. So, we were able to reunite the kid with the mother. Even Palesa judged her. But hey… the baby is back with mom, dad, grandparents and siblings… yes, they all live in one house. Ziwe was sad. I don’t understand. But she’s over it now. She even started asking Palesa and I for a baby brother. We told her that we have more than enough kids. She must relax. She was angry at us for a week, but she’s fine now.

Palesa has been keeping herself busy with the kids’ school stuff. I know she said she wanted to start a business, but I’m glad she hasn’t. I don’t know hey… I’m very selfish with her. I want to share her as least as possible. And when our wives go into business or pursue careers, they work extra hard just to prove that they are capable even though we – their husbands – gave them start up funds. 

Palesa complains about those moms she works with all the time. But she knows all the gossip. And I won’t lie, I enjoy laughing at that every day than her being in business. 

Another matter that has been lingering is this relation between my wife and Uncle Maboko that Palesa wants to pretend like it doesn’t exist. Katli, Kari and Puseletso have opened their hearts and minds to the situation. They actually have even spent some weekends at Uncle Maboko’s house. I don’t understand why it’s so difficult for Palesa. I’m trying not to put pressure on her about this, but I won’t lie – I need her to get there quickly so that Khabane and Ruri can call me Malome. I need this! 

“Hey baby”, she says. She’s stepping in from a shower. I’m chilling on the couch in our bedroom. 

I can never get over how beautiful this woman is. She’s gorgeous! 

“Kunjani my love?” I say.

“I’m good. Didn’t you say you have a meeting this morning?” She asks me.

“I got someone I pay a lot of money to sit in for me. People must earn their salaries”, I say.

She laughs at me and says, “I get the feeling that I’d never enjoy working for you”.

I laugh and say, “I’m glad we work together in other ways.” 

“But I was thinking that we could do lunch today”, I say.

“Oh? You feel like being a romantic husband today?” She says, smiling at me.

“Well, it’s with the Seetes”, I say.

She pushes me away from. Her.

“Baby –

“Why are you forcing this, Nathi?! Why?! Why?!” She’s getting angry now.

“Baby, bakwenzeni la bantu? Huh?! They are also victims in all of this as you are. They just want to turn it into a positive”, I say, 

“I don’t need them. I never have. I’ve survived without them all this time. It’s fine if Katli, Puseletso and Kari want them. It affects their last name in any case we. Mina ngingenaphi? I’m a Khuzwayo now anyway”, she says. 

Yoh! 

“They just want a relationship with you! Is that really a bad thing? You know, family means everything to these people – especially uncle Maboko. Would it really kill you to share a meal with him and his wife?” I say.

“I don’t like what you are doing, Nathi. Because I know you. And the way that you are speaking about this, it sounds like I don’t have a choice because you have already planned and finished this.” She knows me too well.

“Just one meal, baby. And if you don’t like it, we don’t ever have to do it again.” I say. 

She just rolls her eyes at me and walks into the walk-in closet. I hope she doesn’t bring that attitude to lunch. 

We get to Rooftop – where we will be eating – to meet up with Uncle Maboko and Aunt Tebza. Palesa is quite nervous. I understand. On our way here, she told me that if I have energy to be doing such things for her and Maboko, then I need to dedicate the same energy to fixing things with Phakatwayo. I told her that things with Phakathwayo are different. Mnqobi and I have always had a relationship with Phakathwayo. He’s the one who wants nothing to do with us and disrespects our mother. She said I must fix it. Or she won’t try with Maboko. I’m thinking about it. No lies. I do miss him – big time. 

“Hey guys”, Aunt Tebza greets us as we get to the table. 

Palesa holds on to my hand for dear life.

“How are you doing?” I return the greeting. Palesa and Uncle Maboko are just frozen… mute… yep, this is not going to be an easy one. 

“Ke nna, Palesa. I’m your sister. And I’m profusely and unreservedly sorry for any pain that my existence caused in your upbringing amongst your parents”, Palesa says to Uncle Maboko. We are all held in a choke slam. Even Uncle Maboko. 

After he takes in that big statement, he gets up, and hugs Palesa. 

While in this hug, he says, “Ke nna Maboko. Ke abuti wahao. And that’s all that matters.” 

If they weren’t related, I’d respectfully ask him to take his hands off my wife because that was smooth! Very smooth. 

We finally sit down and order our meals on these tablets. The conversation is light and easy. But Palesa is hurting. She cannot hide it. 

“Palesa, thank you for meeting up with us. We know that this wasn’t easy for you”, Aunt Tebza says.

“I hope you guys know that it’s not you. I’m just so embarrassed”, Palesa says. 

“You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, love”, I tell her. 

“Do you know what it’s like to be a product of amanyala?” 

Yoh! 

Even Uncle Maboko and Aunt Tebza are taken aback. 

“You know, everyone in the township and at school would tell me how my mom sleeps with people’s husbands. And I’d defend her.. always ready to even fight people for accusing my mother of such things. Some older mothers in the township would even ask me if I knew who my father was. One lady once told me that I probably have siblings all over and I don’t know it. Now I find out that they were all right. I saw a hardworking single mother trying her best, and now I realise that people were right about her. I mean, what if it’s true that she also did this for money – because those were the other allegations.” 

We are all quiet because really, sithini?!

“And then I must claim this man who never even claimed me. I’d believe him if he said he didn’t know about Kari. But I’m the first one that came from my mom. Every time he kept coming back to make my other three siblings, what was going through his mind knowing that I exist?! Possibly even seeing me and feeling nothing?!” Palesa is actually going through a lot. 

“You know, the more I grow up, the more I realise that I didn’t know him neither. I grew up in a home where my parents fought all the time. My sister had a mental illness because of it. She even killed herself. I thought she was just selfish. My parents didn’t make each other happy anymore. Why would she want them together? My dad then re-married, but he was still unhappy with his new wife. I didn’t get it. Now in my adulthood, I found that he tried to rape my older sister – his step-daughter – and that was actually the reason behind the end of his marriage to my mom. I also found that I have another sister… his daughter whom he made with my ex-girlfriend. And I have four more siblings – you guys. Look, he was clearly afucked up human being. But we don’t have to carry his cross. We are siblings. And I’d really love to have you in my life… in my children’s lives… and we see how we turn this around. The shit is not on us”, Uncle Maboko says. 

Aunt Tebza is wiping tears off her face. She’s clearly emotional about this.

“I just want you to know that I don’t want to benefit off your money. This is not why I’m doing this. I just want to get to know you… and that’s it”, Palesa says. 

Uncle Maboko smiles then says, “do you give me permission to beat this guy up if he doesn’t treat you right?” 

He’s referring to me by the way. 

We all laugh. 

Whew! Finally!