Bazalwane 1

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Good Morning

With Majuba gone I have to sample a few ideas with you guys. This one is called Bazalwane. It will focus on a powerful church family caught up in a bad situation. When the husband becomes a gambling addict he gets caught up with the wrong people who want him to clean cash in transit heist money through his mega church. It is not a crime story but about how he deals with reality of leading his flock when he has led the wolves in. On the other hand it is the story of an abused wife who believes that being a Mamfundisi is reason enough for her to suffer the abuses of a lying cheating man as that position has power and respect in society. It is therefore a highly dysfunctional family who for the sake of the church has to keep up this facade of perfection when it’s destroying them all.

Thank You

Mike Maphoto

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Part One

“Gwrab gwrab gwrab…”

That’s the sound he had heard for the last two hours as he had walked on the gravel from the plots just outside of Johannesburg.

“I am going to be late!”

That’s all he thought about as he had tried to pick up his pace time and time again but he was not used to walking this far anymore. Maybe once upon a time he could have done this distance but not anymore. He had white hair in a few spots but because of the dye he used no one would ever know except of course his wife who applied it.

“I should have taken my phone!”

He thought to himself because maybe this way he could have called someone to come pick him up. He had many thoughts as he walked as quickly as he could with the morning sun starting to rise in the back. Not a single car had passed him all this time because who wakes up early on a Sunday morning anyway.

“I need my phone!”

He told himself again already thinking of all the potentially embarrassing conversation and pictures that were on it.

“Sindi why did you have to call so many times!”

He murmured angrily to himself and as this thought went through his mind a bakkie came down the road from behind him. He flagged it down as if his life depended upon it and the owner stopped, a big burley Afrikaner man.

“Meneer I have been hijacked. Please I beg you in the name of God to take me to the police station. I have no wallet or identification document on me but once I call my wife I will compensate you well!”

He blurted out the words as soon as the man opened his window.

“Get in!”

The white man said. He was so grateful he had tears in his eyes.

“I am sorry my friend but crime in this area is so bad. This bloody government of hours does not take us seriously when we talk about crime!”

The white man ranted on and on until they got to a police station. Fortunately for him the white man was in a rush so he left him outside and drove off. He gave him his number just so he could update him on how things went. He walked up the police station stairs and watched the white man turn back onto the freeway. Instead of going into the police station he went down the stairs and crossed the road into the small shopping centre there. As he was thinking his next plan he saw a meter taxi and hailed it down.

“Bedfordview please!”

He asked the driver.

“That’s far it will cost you about 900 from here!”

The driver said by way of warning.

“I know how far my own house is. I can stop another taxi if you want and they will get paid all that if you want!”

He told the driver. The driver recognized a good start to the morning and drove his old beat down car all the way to the plush suburbs of the East Rand.

“People here have so much money! How much do houses here go for in average?”

The cab driver asked him. He was not lying about that part that people here paid a premium,

“I don’t know now but I moved in hear mid 90s so it was steal cheap!”

He lied. His house was worth a cool r17million last time it was evaluated and that was two years ago. With the economy in shit like this his house was probably worth twice that yet here he was in an old Toyota Corolla that possibly didn’t even have brakes looking destitute!

“That will be R890!”

The driver said as he drove and parked at the gate. Immediately a security guard came out of the booth holding to come inspect what the car wanted.

“How can we help you?”

He asked the driver rather rudely to be fair. Cars like this clearly did not normally park at this gate. The security guard was armed and already his hands were on his weapon.

“I am dropping someone off chief that’s all!”

The cab driver quickly said. His passenger came out and the man immediately stood at attention and saluted,

“Sir I didn’t know it was you!”

He said with what sounded like fear in his voice.

“Yes its ok it’s me. You got paid last night right?”

He asked him.

“Yes sir we did!”

The security guard answered.

“Ok good, please pay this man what I owe him. I will give you double that when I come back!”

He told him.

“Yes sir but I will have to go to the ATM!”

He told him.

“Yes that’s fine and not a word of this to the madam otherwise we will both be in trouble!”

He warned him.

“Of course sir, not a word!”

He entered his yard as the security guard drove out. The second guard who was sitting in the booth as was protocol waved at him as he made the long trek up his driveway. As he curved to look towards his massive house for the first time he got the first shock of the morning,

“Fuck!”

He cursed. There was his car parked nicely in the driveway. He stood there hands on waist for a second and shook his head as he walked towards it.

“Was that fucken necessary?”

He hissed under his breath as went to it. He opened the door and found a note left on the driver seat.

“Next time I won’t be this nice. Honor your part of the agreement or else next time your pretty daughter will be another hashtag on social media!”

The note read. He knew who it was from. He put it in his pocket to search for his phone. He found it wedged between the car seat and the car carpet.

“28 missed calls!”

He said. He didn’t have to open them. He knew it was from his wife.

“Shit!”

He cursed as he walked into the house.

It was shortly before 730am!

Part Two

To be a woman in South Africa is like a punishment from Satan. No matter what you do you are never safe. Money can’t protect you, your husband can’t protect you, the law can’t protect you and you want to know what’s the worst thing of all, that feeling helplessness knowing that even you can’t protect yourself. She looked at the man she loved with all her heart standing there and whilst she recognized him she did not know him.

“So you are going to just walk in and tell me that you did not see my missed calls! I was worried sick for you and you just walk in like it was nothing!”

She shouted at her husband who looked like he had not slept all night. He was not the man she had worked and suffered with for so long to get where they were today.

“You look filthy! Where you with her again? Were you with your mistress?”

She asked him angrily and next thing, phaaaaaa!

“Voetsek!”

He shouted at her angrily.

“You don’t listen!”

Slap! A second one!

This one stung so much she stumbled backward and fell on the bed crying.

“Now look what you have made me do! Why is it women always lead you into temptation!”

He said turning around to look at himself in the mirror. He breathed heavily and he sighed as though he had exerted so much pressure in slapping me.

“But why do you have to hit me though? What did I do wrong? Is it wrong for a wife to worry about the whereabouts about her husband?”

She asked him. People love to judge women like her for being weak and stupid but if only they knew how much she had sacrificed for this man they would understand why she was not going anywhere anytime soon. Loving someone can be a curse sometimes and she had the curse.

“I told you I was going for a meeting but you had to call everyone looking for me. Now everyone thinks that I did something. Do you know how bad that is for my reputation and…”

He did not finish his statement because there was knock on the bedroom door,

“Aunty, I am going to drive ahead. I have to meet the team before you guys arrive!”

It was their niece Ntokozo who had been staying with us since the beginning of the year. She was her sister’s daughter and she was in University but had chosen to come stay with them and not a flat in Johannesburg because of all the filth that happens there.

“Ok we will be right there!”

She shouted out to her trying to keep my voice from betraying that she was crying. There was silence as he walked to run his shower. She looked at his clothes and they were a mess. Something had happened which she knew she would not be told of but as a dutiful wife would do she had to check if he was ok.

“Must I make you breakfast?”

She asked her husband, the vibrations of that stinging clap still make her eyes tear.

“No thank you.”

He said coldly with his back towards her.

“I will eat in the office, I am sure there are biscuits and tea there!”

He reminded her.

“Oh ok. Dumisani…”

She said his name. He stopped because his wife hardly called him by name anymore. In fact he could not remember the last time she had said that name.

“I am sorry I called so many times! I know you under so much stress and when you did not come home the usual time I got worried.”

She told him.

“You did well baby, I am sorry I worried you last night. I should have called to say where I was and I know what I did was wrong and selfish.”

He said turning around to come hug her.

“Please get ready now it’s getting late!”

He said as he went into the shower. It was 0815 and already they were running behind time.

“I have already taken out your clothes for today. I was not sure about the shirt and tie because you said today you are preaching on Wealth in the Spirit so I was stuck there!”

She told him. She looked at herself in the mirror on just below her eye on her right cheek; her husband’s ring had left a mark when he slapped her. She hurriedly went to take out her concealer to hide the bruise. A tear threatened to escape her eyes but she knew it was bad for her mascara so she stopped it. He took a super quick shower and next thing he was standing next to her.

“No I dropped that topic. Today I am going to talk about the love a man should have for a woman and vice versa.”

He said with a smile,

“Today I am going to start by testifying before the church all the wrongs I have done you and ask for forgiveness!”

He said coming to kneel in front of her naked as the day he was born.

“Hell no don’t do that! You want the whole world to know you cheat on me and hit me! The church will lose respect for you and worse for me! I don’t want that and I will never forgive you for it!”

She said dismissively.

“If you want forgiveness get the fuck up and get ready to preach as only the mighty Reverend Dumisani Sibeko of Sibeko Ministries, the biggest New Age church in the East Rand can! That’s the only time I can forgive you not this nonsense!”

She told him as she stood up.

“Get dressed please I don’t want to be late. I want to speak to the choir to sing my favorite song!”

She said as she walked out of the bedroom. The way he treated her hurt but for better or worse also comes with keeping up appearances and no way was she going to be seen as a victim. Being a Mamfundisi was something she took seriously and it came with power, respect and women wanting to be like her! That was power Sindi Sibeko was not willing to give up anytime soon!

********** The End**********

@diaryofazulugal
Michaelnkululekomaphoto (Instagram)
Michael Nkululeko Maphoto (fb)
Mike@diaryofazulugirl.co.za

53 thoughts on “Bazalwane 1

  1. Listen the intro itself had me hooked…now i go and read the first chapter.

    I would have still like to see Majuba evolve and unravel , but well done either way thank you for showing us a sneak peak of a male perspective on relationships

  2. Please go right ahead our Mike. It’s a great piece you’ve put together, and it touches on a subject less spoken about.

  3. Hayi Mike nna personally I hate starting from scratch, for some reason it is like I have to make n extra effort to read, I must confess I haven’t read this, I hope next time you can just merge the books, in that we can move from one story to another without having to start from scratch…

  4. Mike, you are on point, I’m so glad you are writing about what goes on behind those tall walls of churches. Thank you

  5. BAZALWANE! Rubbing my hands together.
    What a title bradaman Mikie. Before I start reading, just got all exited. With yo writing skills, thi shud be exciting I’m sure. Let’s C.

  6. the pretenders, the most judgemental, the gossipers, so materialistic..heheee vanyadyani lava kulu.. a subject less spoken about.. Mike you are the real deal.

  7. As a pastor’s daughter who still experiences some of these things, i must say reading this just reminds me of what i go through on a daily basis. This is good work abuti Mike. Looking forward to this one.

  8. I don’t think I will like the character of the woman, another Londiwe who has no back bone and does everything to please her husband.

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