Have you ever gotten the feeling that your life is falling apart and there is not a single thing you can do about it. Everything you touch seems to be breaking apart if not getting worse. It’s not a nice feeling at all. And that was me at that moment. Thing just seemed to be getting worse for me. My daughter was in jail, my husband could be heading there and we had a dangerous man coming after me. Here is the irony of all this, I was in this situation because I had not paid to what my husband had been up to all this time. I have to wonder though, was I the kind of wife who was was willing to go down with her man? A lot of women think its so romantic when they read or watch a bad boy husband cause havoc but if you were in that situation in real life then you are just playing with yourself. You are definitely delusional. I much preferred my peaceful suburban existence because call me conceited or whatever you want I had worked hard to get to where I was. I did not wish to be successful and it happened, no, I worked for it. I had made sure in life I could afford myself and my family a long time ago.
This was too much for one day. Now I was dealing with lawyers from Cape Town. I just wanted to be left alone. It was too much for me for one day.
“Mr. Sibani there is nothing I can tell you! I hardly knew the man?”
I told him. It was true. I was not lying about this point either because I hardly knew him. How did I get myself intangled in all this?
“I will be flying in to Johannesburg this evening. Where are you based?”
He asked me of which I said Johannesburg. Maybe I should not have told him because now I had to see him. When he hung up there was a knock at the door. It was my brother! What did he want? My husband and Kgosi did not really like each other. It was not hard to see way considering my own father had disowned him and that’s saying a lot considering whom and what my father was! My brother said my husband was selfish and only benefited his side of the family when we got married which has a bit of truth in it BUT with a big but. My brother in his matric years believed he had passed matric with his 40percents. He expected to go to university with those marks and blamed my husband and I for not putting up the funds for that at the time. He fails to acknowledge that 40 percent might be a pass to please the black government and make them look good but no one cares. My husband then advised him to redo his matric and it was at that point that he took offence and said we were insulting him. Ever since then he had refused help. When my husbands little sister on the other hand passed matric two years later, with a few distinctions here and there, he took her to university. In my brothers eyes that was favouritism thus why there was tension to this day.
“I just wanted to come see you its been so long!”
He said when he entered. My brother was never random. He always showed up when he wanted money. There was never a courtesy call with him. He had fathered a child yet he was a dead beat. Don’t you just wish that sperms were reserved for those that can afford and will take care of that child? I swear the world would be a better place for it.
“Eh sister! You have been very quiet where have you been?”
He said as soon as he entered. He was also very loud and had a tsotsi like personality. You know those guys that still wear a sporty and think it’s cool. I don’t mean what you call bucket hats nowadays, Lintle wears one, no, I mean the ones were people still wear on the side and work at the rank. That’s was him. He had on a pair of cavella which I had bought for him and he loved so much. From wedding to funeral he wore it and never mind the fact that it was maroon. I can safely say I bought those shoes under duress because it took me a full year from the day I promised him to eventually buy them.
“Sbali, how are you?”
He said to my husband. Funny enough my husband was feeling cordial in spite of all that had been happening. It was actually something remarkable considering how much they did not get along. They immediately started talking soccer. One would think we did not have problems in this house the way things were going.
I called my mother and spoke to her. I asked if Druza was there, that’s my father. My father and I had not spoken in almost a year because he was a bully and still a thug at his age. In the beginning I told you my father was a taxi boss in Qwaqwa and quite feared. Yeah, you thought Khanyi Mbau was the only one who was taxi royalty, so was I. I was not totally hopeless. My mother asked me why and I told her everything that was happening right up to gangsters. She. Reminded me how I had refused my father’s help because I thought my education would protect me now where was it. You see, people who deal with violence always think violence will solve things at the end of the day. My father and I had disagreed on principal over something he wanted. My mother did not know the details. My father had consulted me on taking a second wife and I had refused. This was after I had caught him with a high school kid whose mother goes to church with my mother. We had fought about it then he had the nerve to bring that up. Obviously I could not tell my mother because I would have hurt her. She now could not understand why nna le papa had been fighting like this to the point of not talking. She said if I needed his help I should talk to him myself. She asked me why I had put her grand daughter in ‘that house of criminals’ and I almost said she was a fine one to talk! Her husband, my father was no better. I did not say that though because I am certain my mother could slap you through the phone. I explained to her why again and she could not believe it. She said I was stupid and selfish. I should have brought her home to her. Not a chance! My mother, though my mother was a strict disciplinarian to the point of being sadistic. When I was sixteen, a boy from my school came to my house to ask for homework. She let him in. I then walked him to the corner which was three houses away and walked back immediately. That day she beat me up like I stole something saying I had lied, that boy was my boyfriend. A year later that boy came out as gay and guess what, she laughed at me saying how could I have been in love with him, she saved my life. As I was explaining to her something distracted me.
There was a knock at the door but I was still talking. My husband just looked at me which was clear there was no way in hell he was standing up. He tends to do that. He is that man who will ask you to fetch him water when he is standing in the kitchen next to the sink. I was emotionally drained for one day so I didn’t fight him. I stood up and went to open when whoever knocked again.
There at my door stood the devil and no, he does not wear Prada!
I lost my breathe for a second!
At the door, at my house stood the two people I did not want to see the most! The words just came out of my mouth as an inverse reaction
“Lesedi, Mthobisi.. what… What are you doing here?”
Michael Nkululeko Maphoto (fb)
Thank you for reading this and hopefully you will advise me.
I’m 28, in a relationship with this amazing guy, and he has kids with different women. I don’t have any children and always dreamt and hoped to have kids in a marriage and also hoped my first child would be my man/husbands first. I love him dearly but every time I think of his kids, I get depressed and experience some withdrawal feelings towards him. Not to get a head of myself, but I don’t know whether I will be able to handle being an instant mother, whether I will be able to deal with baby mamas (hate feelings towards them) and whether I will be able to love those kids like I will my own. I have accepted that he has them, and that it was all in the past, but I don’t know if I can live with this for my entire life should we tie the knot. I need advise not criticism, should I seek professional help? Should I tell him how I feel? Is it normal for a lady who doesn’t have kids to feel this way?