Look I was neither jealous or envious of her but betrayal is betrayal and that one was not going to go unpunished. What would you do if it was you? I had told myself after he dumped aand slept with Zama that I was not going to be that kasi type baby mama who will key your car, punch your tyres or worse, insist on eating kfc in the movie just to annoy him. No. I had told myself I was going to fend for my boy whom I loved so much all by my sweet self. Now this? He had had proposed to my friend and made her pregnant! What about me? Did he even feel sorry for me and the child that he had made with me. My eyes stung! I want to cry but it was out of anger not out of wanting. I wish there was a law that made these dead beat father’s never be allowed to have kids again at the pain of castration! How does he have a baby with me he can’t take care of then rush to have another baby? Where is the justice and humanity in this? This is why it’s a man’s world. They make all these rules. Initially I had thought I was not going to take him to maintenance court and would have hustled for my child but now, I was going to make him pay. Sies! Musa uk’ngijwayela kabi wena shlama! I think most self righteous women don’t get this, never ever compromise! If a man makes you pregnant and runs away he must pay maintenance. There are misguided girls out there who simply say “oh well” and sit on their hands. I almost became that girl. Why are you having a verbal agreement on how much he must pay you per month? No! Get it done by a magistrate so that he is bound for life! It’s as simple as that. When he defaults and you know the loser will, he will get arrested at roadblocks! Every child he has after then, his salary slip will always remind him of his first child. Women are not dogs you fuck on the streets and leave with babies to take care off on their own! I was seething and no, don’t tell me that God will provide and will punish him mxcm! If women today don’t punish their men then in future our daughters will be doomed to the same fate.
That night I thought about it. I was so hurt. He had chosen my own friend over me. People believe that you will only have baby mama/ daddy troubles only if the jilted one is not successful and is always jealous of your achievements and believes that they should have been the one’s chowing your money, or you owe them. They believe that if you have a level headed baby mamma taking care of herself and child then she will never even send you a ‘Pls call me!’ – that’s how independent they can be. I had decided that I was never going to show him peace. I intended to call him each time the child sneezes, and wanted him to take them to the Dr if the child is sick. A baby grows fast so I will want new outfit for the child every second month. I was going to demand those Nike and expensive takkies for my child, that can barely crawl – can’t even walk, but demand them nonetheless!!! I was going to show Mudenda flames. The fool was busy showing off on instagram thinking I was not going to see it! Really?
The following morning I found myself at the high court. I asked this fat police woman where I could go if I wanted to get the forms for maintenance. I was actually very polite to her shem but she gave that look of disgust like I was the one underpaying her! Voetsek! That was my first thought. Who did she think she was, glorified security guard? If she did not have that gun would have told her were to get off. I had to take a few turns before I got there but I was excited because I was determined. That was until I saw the long queue of women sitting waiting for forms to fill in. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh because where we really that many women who had been abandoned and cry because these men really treat us like shit. Guess what, there were a lot of white women too! Who is that fool that still thinks white men are different from black men? I must say though that there was not a single Indian woman. Not one. Could they be the real men?
As I was sitting there there was some girl, she could not have been more than seventeen who was also seeking maintenance. She had her baby with her but you could see that once upon a time she was that IT girl type at school. It’s about the way she carried herself. I was curious to know so I greeted her and just started talking to her. When women are in the same fate we tend to bond. She did not hesitate to tell me why she was here and mentioned that her baby daddy was big guy in the ANC and NPA office. Say what? She must go report him to Thuli I told her and all the other women laughed. They were listening to our conversation. She whispered his name and I knew the guy by name. He was on TV every now and again but I also remembered he had gotten married recently. I told her that and she said she knew all that but that was not her problem. They had a baby together he must pay for and because he had stopped taking her calls she was doing it like this. I asked her how she had gotten his details though and she laughed at me. She told me something I never thought one so young could tell me. Even the other women in the queue agreed.
“When you date a guy, make sure you know his I.D. Number. You can put it in your phone if you want but you must have it. It’s not about getting pregnant but you must always have it in case of emergencies!”
It sounded a bit weird but one woman agreed with her and said it had taken her six months to get his identity number. She had only managed because she had met some church lady who works for SARS and had begged her to help. Food for thought. What struck me about these women though was how all of us could have been fooled by a man to end up sitting this queue. I am certain that there was queue like this everyday.
Eventually my turn came, I did what I had to do and I left. I had to go home. I called Mudenda to warn him that I had taken him to maintenance but the dude had blocked my number. You know when someone blocks you it rings once and goes to voicemail. I put my number on private and the phone rang nicely. Fine. I was not going to wait for him to pick up. I hung up. Today he will see flames in a way he never expected.
When I got home my sister and baby were both sleeping. I woke her up and she said she was so glad to see me. It was a little after two. I told her that I needed to go to an office closeby and I wanted her to drive me. Mum usually left her keys for the Yaris in case of emergencies and with the baby now it was even more important. She warned me that he hadd a bit of a diarrhoea but mum was taking care of it. My poor baby. I held him closely and he cried. He barely knew me. I had started exams about 3 weeks after I gave birth and had already spent a month and week writing. She identified more with my sister. My mothers friend had bought me a Moses Basket for him so I put him in there, packed him a change of cloths just in case, his meds and diapers. He was a huggies man pamphers for what!
With that said we drove to the offices in question. They were not to far, by Kyalami. At reception they were quite shocked to see this little girl, me, walk in with a Moses basket. I had met this lady a few times before and she noted that I had given birth. She congratulated me and asked me why I was alone this time. I laughed it off and told her sometimes a girl had to do it on her own. She told me that Mr. Gumbi is in a meeting right now. Just go upstairs by his office should be done soon.
Perfect. Exactly where I wanted him. I thanked her and went upstairs. The offices were not so big and the board room had glass walls so when I walked up he saw me. I saw his brow furrow then he frowned. He excused himself from his meeting and came to meet me.
“Faith, what are you doing here?”
He said surprised no doubt.
“I came to drop off your son’s son. Mudenda has never seen him, dropped a cent for him nor even bothered to call in five months. What you do next is your decision and he has a bit of diarhorea and there is nothing I can do about it because I have no money! Bye!”
I put the basket down and walked out!
Oh sorry, I forgot to mention that the Mr. Gumbi in question was Mudenda’s father!
Michael Nkululeko Maphoto (fb)
I married an idiot. The man cannot clean up after himself, can neither cook nor even clean himself properly. We dated for about three years but because of religion we never slept together. I slept at his place once and that day he must have hired St. Peter to clean for him because it had been impeccable. After we got married we started living together. He is filthy beyond mention. When I remind him to put the toilet seat down he tells me that it won’t take any energy away from me doing it. I have sat him down explained all these things to him but he won’t listen. He is the kind of guy who will see a plastic bag on the floor in the house and he will step on it as he walks past. He will never pick it up. I love my husband but we can’t live like this. I am afraid that if I involve the parents in such a matter it would humiliate him as he tries so hard to the outside world to look perfect.
FROM THE DIARY TEAM AND FRIENDS
We would like to extend our deepest condolences to Jackzorro, family and friends over their loss. Be strong and be blessed.
Mike, Thozama and Sfiso