Zama’s membeso goes really well. But I’m really tired.
“Fifi, go sleep. I’ll cover for you. You’ve been running around everywhere.” Tlali says to me.
“I’m really tired. But so is everyone else. If we all work together, we will finish earlier.” I say.
“Honestly, if I were not the makoti, I’d have gone to a hotel and actually slept.” She says.
We both giggle.
Mme Onica and her squad were so helpful. But unfortunately, they had to leave early this morning because someone’s husband died and and and… township issues. I listened, but not enough to really explain it to the next person.

“Ladies”, Zithulele says as he stands next to Tlali and gives us bottles of ciders.
We happily accept the ciders and start drinking.
We sit down on chairs close to us.
Shaka joins us. He kisses me then sits next to me. Zithulele gives him. We are all drinking now. The kids are running around and playing about. For the first time ever, they don’t have attires for the function. This was too shot-gun for us to even organise outfits for ourselves.

“Who organised all of this? The tent? The chairs? The tables? The catering? The decor? I don’t remember making any phone calls for any of this”, Zithulele asks us.
Tlali and I giggle, then I say, “Take one guess.”
He starts laughing then says, “Thabi?”
We all laugh.
“We should’ve known that her refusing to cook or clean would result in her hiring people to make sure that it’s done”, Shaka says.
“She even hired a cleaning service. They are already here cleaning up after everyone”, Tlali says and we just laugh.
“Ona is right at home with this one, yazi”, Shaka says.
“I have to agree. She’s too perfect next to him. Too perfect. She is the perfect amount of chaos and structure for him”, Tlali says.
We just laugh.
Zama approaches us.
Zithulele stops smiling all together.
“Sanibonani”, she says. She looks so happy shame.
“Hey Zama”, Letlali is the one who greets her back with a smile. Zithulele is just annoyed.
“Thule naweBhuti Shaka, I just wanted to say thank you.” She says.
Zithulele just looks at her.
“You are welcome, Zama.” Shaka says.
“Mnta ka-mah, ngiyabonga”, she says to Zithulele.
Nothing.
She seems hurt.
“I have to go now. The Phakathi family is asking to take me with them to their homestead in Port Shepstone”, she says.
Zithulele is quiet.
I look at Shaka to do something about this. I mean really.
“Qwabe”, Shaka says.
“Mashimane”, Zithulele says.
“Makoti”, Shaka says.
“Yebo Mashimane”, Tlali says.
“Uyavalelisa udadewenu”, Shaka says.
Zithulele takes a deep breath. He stands up.
“Sthandwa sami”, Shaka says looking at me.
“Please help makoti prepare Zama for her trip to ebukhweni bakhe”, he tells me.

Before we know it, we are singing and have blankets and goods packed, carrying them as we sing Zama away to her in-laws. Zithulele begrudgingly holds her hand to hand her over to the husband. He does it so quickly to just show that he wants this over and done with.
By the time the car takes off and we wave goodbye, Zithulele just says, “Now we can get drunk and pass out”.
We all agree with him.

Thabi – bless her soul – managed to shut the party down. We all don’t know how, but she has a way of just getting people to do what she wants them to do.
Now, we are all chilling in the TV room – with our kids – and are eating what’s left of the food while we drink whatever alcohol we find.
“Mommy”, Wande says to me. He is so dirty.
“Wande, why are you so dirty? Where have you been and what were you doing?”
“Look mommy”, he says.
This child shows me a dead rat.
“Wande, what the hell?!” I say.
Shaka is laughing.
“Mommy, me and Tholoana used a knife and opened it. Look at what it looks like inside”, he says as he flips the rat around.
“Wande! Go throw that thing away! Sies, man.”
“Mommy, I want to show you its heart. If we put this on the stove and let it cook, maybe –
“Akwand’impumelelo Maphumulo! Go throw that thing away and if you touch it again, you will be grounded!”
Everyone else is giggling.
What’s wrong with this little freak?!
He starts crying.
“Go!” I shout at him and he runs away crying.
“Shaka! That child of yours!”
“Mrs Maphumulo! Hai bo!” He says, laughing.
I’m too tired for this.
Thabi walks into the house and says, “All is clear outside. Can we sleep then leave first thing in the morning?”
We all look at her.
We look at each other.
We all burst into laughter.
She just shrugs her shoulders and leaves the house again, headed outside.
As we are still laughing, she comes back and says, “Ona, we have a crisis. Please come with me.”
Ona and all the guys follow each other to her. I’m too tired to follow them. Whatever it is, it better not interfere with my sleep.

I spoke too soon. I am making my way to the bedroom when I’m told that there are protests in Tholoana Kingdom. Ona and Thabi have to go and attend to them. But there are people on the ground managing them so that things are not destroyed in the meantime.
“Mommy, can all of us be in one car?” Ever since Wande started talking, he says or suggests a lot of nonsense. Stru.
“Wande, how is everyone going to fit into one car, my boy?” I ask him.
Shaka is leaning against the door frame, smiling as he watches us interact.
“Me, Banathi, Mnqobi, Tholoana, Mohale, Khabane, Reahile and Mohato. We want to be in one car. One of the dads can drive for us. Then everyone else can go with the girls.” He says.
Mihlolo!
Shaka bursts into laughter!
Wande looks behind him and sees his father.
“Sho, baba”, he says.
“Sho, fanas. Why are you frustrating my wife?” Shaka says.
“Me?!”
“Yes you.”
“But, I’m just asking for a favour.” He says.
Shaka and I are so done. We are in stitches.
Shaka picks Wande up, puts him on his head and closes the door.

“I just got off the phone with correctional services”, he says.
Ntuthuko was supposed to come out a few months ago. But he is still in there. I wanted us to fight the correctional services, but Shaka said he needed to find out what happened. Something possibly happened.
“Bathini?” I ask him.
“Ntuthuko joined a gang.” He says.
“Excuse me?”
He nods his head and says, “That gang is notorious for just being barbaric and Ntuthuko is one of the drivers of the madness. He put poison in the prisoners’ dinner and over 200 inmates died. He is currently in isolation.”
I cannot believe my ears.
Ntuthuko?!
“So, what now?” I ask.
“He’s been charged with murder of over 200 prisoners. He is appearing in court next week.” He says.
“What is he looking at?” I ask.
“Probably life in prison. But Ona says he can pardon him and have him released so he can rehabilitate at home. Ona and Khotso believe that his behaviour is a result of the environment that he has been in. They said that if we got him out sooner, he wouldn’t have even joined the gang. My concern is that now that he is part of a gang, he can’t just come out. No one just leaves a gang. These people have the power that they have because their members that are outside make money outside illegally and dangerously then support them inside. With the work that we do with the church, baby, he’s going to be a liability. I don’t know what to do.” He says.
“We can’t leave him in there forever, sthandwa sami. That’s not the answer.” I say.
“If he comes out, he’s either going to die from this lifestyle that he has chosen, or he is going to give us hell and I don’t want that nonsense around Akwand’impumelelo.” He says.
“Love, Ntuthuko is your son too. He needs the love and protection that you give Akwand’impumelelo too.”
“Fifi, Akwand’impumelelo is a child. His version of misbehaving is cutting rats and frying their insides. Ntuthuko is a grown man. He is someone’s father. We are not going to compare these two boys.”
“Shaka, does it ever concern you that this child also has a trauma of being trafficked and abused. In a prison environment, that is triggered again. To overcome prison and what it triggers, he has to be a type of person.”
“Love, I hear you. Trust me, I do. And that’s exactly why I’m stressed about this thing. Ntuthuko is going to be a problem. Honestly, he’s better off inside.”
“Shaka –
“Baby, trust me on this one. We had an agreement and you were there for that agreement. I told him that if he made the most of the rehabilitation system and came out rehabilitated, I’d help him set up his life. He’s done the complete opposite of what we agreed on, so why must I still stick to my word?”
“Because you are his father, my love. He has no other father but you. Kids will disappoint us and hurt us and make the most questionable decisions. But, we are their parents. There is no dustbin out there reserved for the children we wish away. We pray for them and we do what we can. And wena, pope… you can fix this. Of anyone walking this earth, you are probably the only person that can get him out of prison, get him out of that gang – I don’t need to know how you are going to do it. But as long as you don’t die and as long as our son is going to be okay and have a fair second chance at life, I’ll forgive whatever you do. I’ll even help you be hard on him when he’s out so that he can be a better father to his daughter, at least. But babe, he cannot be in prison for the rest of his life. That, I cannot allow. And he cannot be a gang member for the rest of his life, I cannot allow that neither – not when my husband can do something about it.”
He looks at me.
“What if he hurts us? What if he hurts Akwand’impumelelo? Fifi, I’ll kill that boy. I know I will. And I won’t be able to live with the fact that I killed my child.”
I walk up to him. I kiss him.
“Baba! Don’t kiss my mommy. Eeeeuuuu!” Wande says.
This child.
We laugh.
“I’m sorry, bafana. Askies”, Shaka says.
I brush his face then say, “We are going to figure it out. I promise. It’s just that –
I pause.
I do have an idea, but I’m not his mother. And he knows it.
“What baby?” He asks me.
“We can send him to Lesotho”, I say.
Shaka looks at me with interest.
“I have an uncle there – my mom’s brother. You met him when you paid lobola.”
“Okay.”
“He has a farm. But the farm is one part of his business. His key project is to groom boys into responsible men. They work on the farm. They stay on the farm. He pays them and he has a programme of how families visit the boys. He takes boys that are from prison as well and actually want to get their lives back. And –
“Call him. Ntuthuko is going there.” He says. I don’t even finish pleading my story.
“And it will work wonders for him because Ntuthuko doesn’t even know seSotho. He will be too frustrated with the language barrier to take chances.” Shaka mara.
We laugh.
“I’m just scared. You know he doesn’t take me as a mother. What if he resists?” Me.
Shaka kisses me then says, “Leave him to me. I trust that you are doing what’s best for him. Please call malume.”
I smile at him.
“I love you”, I tell him.
“I love you, baby.”
“Baba!”
Yoh, we should’ve let him go play.

…

The protests are happening outside the government premises. Ona, Thabi, my mom and I arrive and climb out of our car. We are in the basement parking. Our bodyguards are behind us and in front of us. We took our kids to Tebza’s and Maboko’s place. We don’t trust what will happen at the royal house while we are here and Tebza is their “mama” now.
Ona and I are walking in front. Thabi and my mom are behind us.

As we step outside the front door, the crowd is raging and singing. There are police here and the army as well. Ona and I look at each other. We just know that we have to do this together.
What Thabi managed to find for us is that they are protesting about the shacks that have been bull-dozed off the peripheries of the suburbs. There is a place called “Mjondolo” that they’ve set up at an un-approved place. That place has seen the death of over 15 children and many more people are sick because of the waste that is there. That mjondolo place is a dumping site. Then there is a dam there that has now been covered by grass and reeds. Kids lost a ball there and as they went to look for the ball, they fell into the dam and drowned.

Ona and I stand in front of the protestors. They finally stop singing and they pay us some attention. My mom arranged meals and drinks for them. They’ve been here since 6am. We are only arriving now at 7pm. My mom speaks first and asks them to eat first before they proceed with the conversations. They actually don’t swear at us. They cue at the food station and everyone starts dishing up for them.
Thabi phones people to come and help dish up for these people then serve them food. Before we know it, people are just all over dishing up and serving the protestors.

“Baby”, Thabi says to Ona.
We both look at her. We know that I’m not baby, but I clearly need to hear this too.
“There’s a project that your father had started before he passed. A housing project. It was after the multiple protests that took place about this housing issue and he started it so he would have a place where he would move these people to when the day came for their shacks to be bulldozed. Maboko’s company was building those houses.” Thabi says.
I don’t remember morena telling us about this. Judging by the look on Ona’s face, he also knows nothing.
Thabi continues, “I just got off the phone with Tebza. She says they managed to create five townships with over 500 standard two bedroom houses. We can tell them about this plan and we can start the process of signing people up and moving them into the houses, starting with the families that lost their children – just a way of us saying sorry that it had to get to that.”
Ona nods his head.
“I can organise for people to be transported there”, I say.
They both nod their head.
“I was also thinking…” Thabi.
She’s such a queen. She loves serving people even though she’d never admit it. She knows how to be for the people without even trying too hard. She’s the one who found my wife for me and apparently she made a good choice. That’s what my mom says.
“These people cannot be a burden on the government. Morena started the church so he could do all of this for them. And he did. He stuck to his guns. It was just not for him to be rich, it was to uplift the economy and he did just that. But now it’s also their turn to do their part. This is not just your country. It’s theirs too. We have given them houses, but they need to work hard for us to help them sustain and maintain those houses.” She says.
I’m already sold.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask her.
“I was speaking to Remo –
“Who’s Remo?” I ask.
“Your soon to be wife”, she says.
Ona and I look at each other then laugh!
“Her entire life is village life. She’s the best consultant on this.” Thabi mara.
We are just laughing.
“Remo runs an NGO that finds sustainable ways to feed people who cannot afford food.”
Thabi looks at me as she says this. I’m smiling because Remo sounds nice. She sounds like someone I’m excited to meet and have conversations with. Thabi giggles.
“Anyway, she was telling me that with the rural economy suffering in Tholoana Kingdom, we could actually build an entire economy around this place. We will open a shopping centre for them that they will have to run. So, we run it like an estate. There will be a board of trustees and everything that manages how the economy picks up. We will give them a shopping centre where they will be employed and manage the kind of shops that will be running in that centre. We will open a clinic that is attached to a local hospital there. One of the main things that they were complaining about is that they are building the shack because they are far away from accessing their rights to quality education, adequate Healthcare and stable employment. These townships solve those problems for us. Then, Remo and her NGO have offered to start a gardening and chicken farming project in these areas. She can tell us more about that because I’m not exactly a farmer.”
Ona and I laugh. This woman is very entertaining.
“The point is, we will own the shops in the shopping centre. We will take a percentage from the profits because it’s our investment, but they will also be sustaining themselves. The profits made from the shopping centre will fund the school and the hospital. They need to learn to look after themselves. We are running a country, not an NGO. No offense to Remo”, she says.
“None taken on her behalf.” I say and we laugh.
“Then the rent or bond on the houses…”
“We making them pay for that too?” Ona asks.
“I did say that we are not an NGO.” Thabi.
We look at her.
“Standard payment is R2500. However, what you pay will be determined by your contribution to the economic development of the place. So, we are not going to have a house of loafers. We want to see people employed. Employment takes off R500 from your rent payment. If you get involved in projects like the gardening and farming project, we take off another R500. You can even start a creche for all I care and look after the kids of the community. It’s a rewards system. You get involved in uplifting the community, you pay less rent. But if you are going to be a loafer, we want our R2500 every month.” She says.
This is good!
“You are amazing, baby. You know that? You are incredible”, Ona tells her.
“I know”, Thabi says and smiles at Ona.
Ona laughs.
“Am I late?” Some beautiful woman says as she stands next to Thabi and asks her.
What an incredibly beautiful woman! Wow! Where do they make such unique beauty? Her voice it hoarse, but it’s perfect. It suits her.
“Not really. People are still eating. I was briefing these two on the plan.” Thabi says.
They have an entire conversation between them until Ona clears his throat.
“Apologies, morena waka. Ke nna Remoletile Sedibe. I own –
“I am Khotso Mohale. Hi.” I say.
She smiles at me.
“I was hoping to meet you at a dinner and not at a place like this”, she says.
“Agreed. I’ll still owe you that dinner though. I promise.” I say to her and she smiles.
“Now that we have that out of the way, can we get back to business?” Thabi.
Ona is laughing his lungs out.
“Baby, here’s your speech. As soon as they are done eating, you can address your people.” Thabi says.

…

Ona addressed the protestors and it was incredibly positive. They are more than happy. Ecstatic I tell you.
It is 3:30am and we are still helping these people register for the houses and create CVs so we can see where we’d place them for work.
The gang has come out to help. Mohato and Reahile are here to help. Maboko and Tebza are here. Letlali and Zithuelel are here. Fifi and Shaka are also here. Mme-Onica and Ntate Thokoane offered to babysit, so the kids are at Tlali’s and Zithulele’s house.
Nothile is also here to help, but it’s awkward. Very awkward. Thankfully, we are all working, so there’s no time for nonsense.
Mothusi also arrived with his wife and teenage kids to help us.

“Do you have any forms we need to put in the box?” Remo asks me.
I smile at her.
“We will have time for that. Don’t worry. I just need to go load these in the car.” She says.
“What are you doing after this?” I ask her.
“I’m headed to The Sip & Read with mofomahadi, mme-mofomahadi and morena. We have to work through all of this paperwork”, she says.
“I can come and help you if you like.” I say
She laughs and says, “Completed forms in this box, please.”
I laugh then put the forms in the box.

More chiefs are arriving and they are bringing food and drinks. They all want our attention and more funding anyway, so we know they are here for politics and begging.
We finish when the sun comes up, so naturally, breakfast is on us again.
After breakfast, people start leaving. Thabi and Remo organise for people to clean up.

“Ready to go?” I ask Remo
She looks at me like I’m annoying her.
“Okay.” She says.
“After you”, I say.
I follow her to a red Hyundai Tucson.
I offer to drive and she lets me.

Our drive to The Sip and Read is a bit quiet. Then she says:
“Isn’t this weird for you?”
“What?” I ask her.
“The fact that we are getting married in the next two weeks?”
I didn’t even know that a date had been set.
“Not really. I grew up in an environment where that is normal.”
“Me too. But we are a different generation and we have more freedom to say no than what our parents did.” She says.
“So, you have an issue with us getting married?” I ask her.
She takes a deep breath then says, “When mofomahadi and mme-mofomahadi came to my parents and told them I’d been chosen to be your wife, I wondered why. I researched you. I tried to learn everything I could about you. Then I wondered, why me? I’m not as beautiful as Fikile or Oluremi. And we all know that you love your women to be as beautiful as possible – close to impossible actually. I’m not that.”
“What?! You are so gorgeous.” I can’t believe she thinks she’s not beautiful. What?!
She blushes.
“I’m serious. You are stunning. And I’m not even comparing you to Lulu or Fiks. They played the roles that they needed to play in my life. But it’s over now. They’ll always be part of a significant aspect of my life, but I’m allowed to move on. And in moving on, I need to give you your space to be who you need to be in my life.”
“And who exactly do I need to be in your life?”
“Someone who’s just for me. Yes, there will be the political and royal elements of everything. But when we go home to each other every night, I want to have a home in you.”
She looks at me as if amazed that these are my views.
“Research forgot to tell me that you are a real person”, she says.
“Give me my chance in your life. That’s all I ask. Don’t judge me before you’ve even given me a fair chance, and don’t write this marriage off as duty to the families before you’ve seen what else it can be”, I say.
She nods her head.

The rest of the drive is silent.