We are back at last. Please note, Blessed HAS NOT been replaced. I must emphasize this so please don’t melt down. It will be posted tomorrow. Today I decided that I would like you to read two samples of my potential new blog which as we did with Realities, you guys need to decide which blog must I write as I can’t write both.
“Majuba’ is a male perspective relationship story. The expectations that women put on men in a modern society are often justified but unrealistic. Men have reached a stage were much as women are shouting that they want real men; in the same breath the very same women are telling them not to be too manly. A woman can tell you that she wants you to protect her but don’t protect me too much because I can do it myself. She will tell you that she can make her own money but you must pay her bills to be a real man etc. Here is the irony; men themselves don’t know what a real man is because much as they are expected to know it, it is the female that raised them to be the men that they are. This is a story of the “woke” generation of women trying to conduct relationships using the feminist bible and trying to figure out whether its working or not. Its an uncomfortable story as both sides need to hear what they don’t want to hear. Equal Rights in marriage and relationships might after all not go hand in hand in spite of the fact that both sides mean well.
Please read and let’s decide. I can’t write both.
She said shaking me already out of breathe. Come on! Just when I was starting to dream again I could feel her cold hands touch me. I should have slept with a long sleeve pyjama but or no, she said it makes me sweat a lot and she hated that!
She shook me again this time her tone getting sterner and more urgent. I had to try to pretend to be sleeping. Good Lord come on. It was definitely 3am in the morning, I know this because ten minutes ago she had gone to the bathroom and I had checked and that’s when I had heard them.
“What is it?”
I asked her as though I did not know what it is she wanted me to do! My wife was predictable and her reactions to things predictable.
“They are at it again.”
She said angrily out of breathe almost.
“So? What am I supposed to do about it?”
I asked her trying to turn away from her but she was wise to it. She jumped up to the other side of the bed to where I had turn to face. This is why people should not have these queen size beds! You can never get privacy. People take it for granted that when you are married, just turning your back on your wife can mean the difference between a fight and peace. If you have ever shared a bed with another person and had a fight you would know how that one move can do so much good or damage.
“Last time you said if he hits her again you will go have a talk to him, men to man. Well its happening again so go do what you promised!”
She said sternly. My neighbours fought a lot. Hell they fought every weekend whenever alcohol was involved. With it being festive season and all that meant that there was a lot of alcohol then. My wife, Londiwe, was a pure bred Zulu from Jozini in KwaZulu Natal. I was Zulu too but a Joburg Zulu and I don’t even remember where my relatives were from so yah.
“You want me to go tell that big Nigerian man to stop fighting with his wife? Are you serious?”
I asked her. The way the blood left her face immediately and came back to darken her. It was like a white man finding his daughter kissing a black man. I know what anger mixed with shock looks like when I see it.
“Vusimuzi Zungu, get up this minute. I didn’t marry a coward! Get up right now! Why the hell do you go to gym if you are just going to be scared of other men!”
She said mocking me. Was this woman for real?
“And don’t give me that bull shit that you go to gym for fitness. It’s not like all that running is going to make you any wiser! Get up and go do something once and for all before that fool kills her!”
She shouted at me again adding insult to injury. I had joined the gym to get away from her and now that was being used against me. It had fallen straight into her lap and look at me now, I was stupid all over again.
“You do realize that she is the one doing the shouting and abusing in this case. He is quiet, I don’t even hear him!”
I told her and this was true. Half the time she was the one shouting at her man.
“Then why are you scared of going to tell her to shut up! It’s him! I hate foreigners they come all the way here to abuse South African women like we don’t have abusers of our own!”
Here we go again.
“You see the problem is that all you other so called good man, yes I mean you Vusi even if I see you rolling your eyes, people like you do nothing to stop it. You want to go and tweet your anger at abuse but you can’t stand up for women! Sies! I am so ashamed to call myself your wife!”
She said. The neighbours fight had become our fight. There is genuinely a school of thought perpetuated by single women that if a man sees another man no matter how big he is abusing his woman, it is that mans responsibility to intervene and fight off the man. I beg to differ; I was not there when she married Rambo! I did not encourage her to date Rambo! So now tell me bazalwane why I must be killed by Rambo?
“You know what? Since you won’t protect women, we will protect ourselves! I am going there myself before he kills her!”
She stood up in her bum shorts pyjamas to go outside. She did not even bother wearing a gown. This woman was not even a force of nature she was just a lunatic.
I said loudly. There was only one way to stop this. I went and picked up my cricket bat, yes see what background I came from, I was not designed for violence,
“That’s better! That’s more like it! We must teach that monkey a lesson!”
She said angrily. I was carrying a cricket bat because I grew up I suburbs. We don’t do violence.
“Put this on! You want to go out naked!”
I said annoyed handing her, her night gown.
“And stop calling people monkeys!”
I warned her. You see a lot of South Africans pretend to be angry at white people racism when reality is we hate ourselves even more. My wife had never hidden her dislike for foreign people. You would think a foreign person did something to her but nope, she was just taught to hate. Even at restaurants she hated being served by Zimbabwean waiters so much so that we stopped going to normal restaurants. Name one restaurant in South Africa with no foreign staff and see why we could not eat out anymore thanks to her!
“If they behave like that I will call them what I want!”
She said stubbornly. This was a Zulu girl from Jozini and you ask yourself who had taught so much hate when no foreign people even go there! The neighbour was on my left so I went straight to his door.
I said knocking on the door with my cricket bat. It makes this noise that’s loud and makes it sound urgent.
I shouted again. I don’t know now if I was angrier at him or at my wife for all the stupid things she was saying. I could hear shuffling of feet inside. I think someone threw something and I heard a plate break.
“I hope it’s the police and they are here to arrest your stupid ass!”
I heard Nobuhle shout. Nobuhle was the neighbour’s wife and I knew her name because every time they fought he would call out her name to reprimand her. He also did that when they had sex. They had to be the loudest people I had ever heard no wonder why the other neighbours kept on moving out. It was like they had discovered some secret in moaning and groaning during sex they way they did it.
“Yes sir what can I do for you?”
He said when he opened the door. The man was huge. I mean on another day I would have buckled. I am not a short guy myself but Nigerian guys have a way of gyming that is surely only known to them no wonder why they often end up as bouncers.
“You are making noise, you are always making noise, and you don’t stop. We want to sleep, we need to sleep and this is not neighbourly! I have tried to ignore you and your wife but when my wife starts fighting me because of you it does not work!’
I said angrily. I think he was not used to someone standing up to him because well being him, who would.
“Nobuhle, these people are for you! You are embarrassing us yet again!”
He said turning back to shout at his wife. His accent was thick and rich and I just felt I was about to get into a Nollywood movie. I saw her coming from behind him. She was in her bra and panty, her mascara was running and she was drunk! I froze! I did not expect to stare like that and I mean this with all due respect this was woman was beautiful Bafowethu even after she had been crying!
She said putting her hands on her waist. I could hear myself swallow spit. She was wearing black lingerie, bra and panty and it don’t seem like it mattered to her.
“I beg your pardon!”
I asked her stunned. She had just said she hoped we were the police now she was asking what we wanted here! Really! He went and stood further in and said,
“Deal with your people. Once again you shame us. I am sorry neighbours!”
He was not even ashamed to have his semi naked wife talk to two strangers dressed like that. I guess he knew she could handle her own!
“Are you ok sisi?”
My wife asked her stepping up from behind me!
“We could hear the screaming! Did he hurt you?”
She asked her with so much concern you could literally forget she was shouting at me two minutes ago.
“Hurt me? No! He is just unreasonable. We were at a party and he wanted us to leave early because he said I was drunk. Do I look drunk to you?”
She asked sounding annoyed but reality was she could not even stand straight not that I minded. She turned around and shouted,
“We should have stayed at the party your moron, now we have to listen to sister Bettina and her husband at our doorstep!”
Angrily at her husband. He was her husband because they both wore a ring! My wife was now sister Bettina! I was not paying attention though because there is a way a thong gets into a woman’s buttocks and forms that whale tail… Sigh!
“Come let’s go!”
My wife said angrily. She had caught me staring.
She hissed angrily at me already walking towards our door. Nobuhle had just embarrassed her but somehow I got the sense that I was the one in trouble now.
“I can’t believe you stared at her ass like that. You are really a pervert I am so ashamed! You embarrassed me!”
Somewhere deep inside I could hear myself say,