I had to get home quick, I was late, fuck! Sizwe did not like it if I was late and if his dinner was not on the table. No its not like that, I did not have an abusive husband. He had never laid his hand on me nor did he shout or threaten me. Please don’t get any hidden suggestions by that. I had the most amazing man ever and fifteen years of marriage had not changed him one bit. He was loving and caring and better yet he was making lots of money. One of his friends had recently become an MEC meaning that the tenders had started flowing. Truth be told corruption is only corruption if you are not benefiting from it. As far as I knew of his business, which was very little, my husband was not the type to have secret meetings with large envelopes of cash to bribe himself into tenders. Nope, he was smarter. All he had done was shelve shares here and there so that when his friend left the government he would have a nest egg. People are so quick to judge and get angry but truth be told, when other men and women went into exile and Toyi toyied in the streets what were you doing? Now these men and women are living pretty and you are 45 and still living in your two bedroom house ko kasi! You spend too much time shouting at them instead of bettering your situation. He was not even that political and I cannot recall him ever attending an ANC rally. He was just a voter, in fact we all were and much as we are fast being shamed by an overzealous media for supporting the green black and yellow, we still and probably always will vote ANC. I was late because yet again the train was delayed. The Gautrain we were told would be efficient and reliable and now they were blaming cable theft! For something that was built for so much money and is so flippen expensive to use you would think they could afford security! BUT, this is South Africa after all and we love to cut corners. I only drive when I am on call otherwise I prefer the train most times and it makes me feel like the modern Johannesburg successful woman. I am a doctor by the way. I was always smart so in my matric I had good grades. I juggled raising my young family and school and today here I was.
I married my husband very early, I was 19 when I got married. It was a shotgun wedding because I got pregnant and my boyfriend had to marry me immediately. It’s not like he had a choice in the matter. My father was a fearsome man, he owned taxis and his reputation preceded him. They called him Druza from his name Andrew and yes I know it’s embarrassing to have your father be called by a nickname but ke tla reng? My husbands family had a tuckshop or two whilst his mother was a nurse and father a teacher, cliché I know it. We both went to good schools. I was in boarding in Jhb same time with him as we originally from Bloem via Qwaqwa! The moment I got pregnant my husband told his family who I think out of fear immediately approached my father who demanded that we get married. He was furious yes but was not unreasonable. I was in love and you know how young love is, you dive in head first and think later. I was therefore 19 when I got into a wedding dress whilst Sizwe had been a ripe old age of 23. Regardless of what people say we had made it work and I don’t think I have any regrets so far. Those are some of my beautiful memories of how I got to be with my husband. Sigh!
Eventually I got home. My husband though not fat had started developing a mkaba and much as I berated him about it he still demanded food with lots of meat and starch. He loved stew! Mutton curry being his favourite meaning every two three days it’s what we ate. I was now on a diet because I realised this would kill us fast. I tried my level best to cut down on a lot of the unhealthies in his life but it was not easy. He would get angry or moody if I grilled or gave him frozen vegetables. He wanted stew! That’s how unsophisticated he was. We hardly ever fought though which was good because it meant that we got along. I won’t lie though, it got boring at times. Much as he was a drinker, he drank at home, preferred his friends to come to him as opposed to going out. Every now and again we would go clubbing, yeah I know clubbing because he would say that it was healthy for a man to go see thighs and legs with his wife. His argument was ‘going clubbing is like going to a strip club without the cookie in your face’. I did not mind if every now and again he fantasized about what he would never get because for the time I had known and gone through his phones, my husband had never cheated on me! Another thing about this clubbing business was that every single time we came back we would have incredible sex. That one I can put my life on! He did not have a secret phone stashed in his office, under a rock or in his car because I checked all these places randomly at least once a week when he least expected it. I was not going be made a fool out of!
My husband normally got home around 8pm because of his work. That’s the typical time for most Jhb men in real jobs, you know, the ones that matter. We had a live in nanny who to be fair was the most amazing woman. Mapula had been with us from the beginning. She hailed from Limpopo and was a life saver. Usually when I was not home by 6pm she would start cooking. Our daughter, Dintle, who was in grade 10 at this stage was doing her homework when I got there. The meat was on the stove, the rice almost done so I had to make a salad and finish up the meat. Mapula, the nanny, ate in the main house even though she lived in the cottage. Her son sometimes visited but now that he was in matric he did not come often I think on account of studying. Dintle was your typical teenager. She could ignore you when you called her, answer back when you scolded her, threaten to sue if you clapped her and the way that child loved her phone! It was unnatural. Typically I was her worst enemy so we fought a lot. She did not jump fences though, it was kind of impossible though to be fair!
I had been cooking for about thirty minutes when eventually he walked in. I did not even hear his car. He looked pretty sad and old as he sat down on to the dining room table. Every woman knows when something is wrong with her man. I immediately went to him to ask.
“What has happened?”
I asked him directly!
“I know when something is wrong so please tell me now!”
I asked sitting next to him! He looked at me and I could see he was scared to tell me meaning this was personal.
“Is there another woman?”
I immediately asked. As a married woman your biggest fear in marriage is that. Another woman.
“Yes and no! I would never do that to you!”
“So what do you mean?”
I was now confused because he said yes and no.
“I just discovered that I have another child. She is two years older than Dintle. The mother came to see me and we did DNA tests and she is mine! Her name is…”
I screamed hard. He did not even finish his sentence that’s how loud it did. I did not want to hear her name. I did not want to hear more. My perfect existence I felt was shuttered! He had done all this behind my back, meeting up with his ex lover so what if more had happened. Twice last month he had not slept at home and I remember when I called him he had been hard of speaking something which at the time I had thought was because he was in a meeting or something. I trusted him yes but I remember last week thinking that was dodgy by his standards. Where was he? He folded his hands on the table and lay into them face first. I am not sure if he was crying, I don’t care!
I stood up without saying a word and went back to the kitchen to finish cooking!
Michael Nkululeko Maphoto (fb)
I think this one I will keep mysterious. I always preempty the storyline before I start so let’s try something new.
Hope you enjoy