Friends are like the devil; they lure you into doing bad things then when things go bad are the first to laugh at you when you fall. Yup, I said it out loud no coming back from that. Who gossips more about you enemies or friends? Stop acting surprised at truths that you know already. Abangani bakho izidiablos! Wow, that feels so much better. I feel like that’s a weight lifted off my shoulders. It’s a truth we only accept at every betrayal when a new friend throws your trust away and these people never stop. It’s an everyday thing and only a fool acts as though that is not true. Now if that’s bad, think of friends that want to grab the bag with you? Yup, those that you party with are worse than Satan when he gave that precursor to all our problems the stupid apple! Those bitches will back stab with a smile on their face so by the time Thandeka Mkhize came to Joburg I was gatvol of friends. I digress.
Samkelisiwe Zama Hlatshwayo was my name even though my father loved calling me by my clan name naMhayise. It was not an odd thing growing up in Mooi River were people are still hypersensitive about izithakazelo zabo. You need to grow up in a Zulu town in the Natal Midlands to understand how much ancestors mean a lot to these people. I say ‘these’ people because half the time I felt all the hard bits were left for women. Long ago men used to go to war to fight for land and livestock hence why we did all the hard work of cooking, cleaning, putting clay in houses, making clothing and all that bullshit they did for Shaka. See then I could have understood. Guess what, we lost that land and have a king paid by government like a member of parliament, a whole king! Today however women work too, in fact half of Zulu households it is the women that work and feed the home since amadoda adla phansi. I am not making this up and the men that stay in the home half of them barely contribute. It is our mothers that do everything for us whilst our fathers are busy drinking or making other women pregnant. This the same Zulu culture which still expects the women to kneel when we give the men food, be quiet when men do bad things and keep quiet when the very same fathers abuse our mothers. I laugh on Heritage Day when every other culture tries to imitate us not knowing that all is not well back home.
I must start by saying this, I was not like every other Zulu child who thought that going to Joburg from KZN was the pinnacle of our existence. What is fun about going to a city were half the people are poor, live in townships or mkhukhus, full of mapara and nyaope boys wanting to rob you and worse rapists and murderers? What is fun about going to a city where even the fun you have in the night life more often than not comes at a price. I was therefore not one of those kids from KZN who were full of hope and optimism when I also got accepted to WITS. I know for many it’s like the best thing that ever happened to them but for me the sentiments were quite different.
“Ngaze ngajabula naMhayise but how are we going to afford this? The fees alone will break us and you know ubaba wakho has a bad back!”
My mother had said to me when I got my acceptance. I wanted to say bullshit on my dad’s so called bad back as that back had fathered twins with another woman in the last three years. A bad back for five years like really. My father was a long distance truck driver for Pick n Pay. I am almost certain those people do physicals so there is no way his back was that broken. My sweet mother, God Bless her, would always find a way to vindicate his short comings as a man to my siblings and me. Kodwa uMa waye boneni kuleli izumba lento?
“I don’t have to go to university mum its ok, I can get a job at the tollgate. uSisi ka Phume works there and said she can get Phume and I a job there if we want it!”
I told her and this was not for me to guilt her but it was indeed the truth. Mooi River has possibly one of the most famous toll gates on the N3 largely because everyone and I mean everyone has heard about that girl Thandeka who ruined my name.
“No never, we might be poor but I would never accept you to work there. You have passed well enough to be accepted in university so we will make a plan on sending you there!”
My mother, my superhero had said and indeed I ended up a Wits student. We really take the strength of a woman for granted. Turns out my mother had opened an education policy for us when we were young. Kids today are lucky to have NSFAS to spoil them but for us we had to do the Eduloan route and that did not always work. As for my father he had been livid,
“I knew my money was going somewhere all this time. I could never ever understand why it was not balancing!”
He had argued. He was angry yes but there was a bit of pride in his voice over what my mother had done. Now he had something new to boast about amongst his friends so he could get more drinks.
“I have a child in university and it’s so expensive!”
Became his new line so he could fleece out of his friends and funny enough it worked. Needless to say I was given one further instruction before I left and this was from the only parent that actually cared enough, my mother,
“Please try get a job so that we can help each other out. Your father will be keeping his money closely now so we have to make sure that no matter what, you stay in school and get a job, get married and have kids of your own some day!”
You need to understand that this was KwaZulu and here marriage means a big deal to these people hence why I always find it a mystery how they actually get it so wrong. Emcimbini when it comes to weddings are headline events in Mooi River and I am sure my mother wanted to one day have the honor of being mother of the bride!
“I will not marry a Zulu man mama I have told you this before!”
I told her for the hundredth time and she just laughed and said,
“I would not advise you to trust me but you know your father will not accept abe Sotho kulo muzi!”
She said. In KZN every other tribe is called Sotho if they are not Zulu. We only tolerate Swatis and Xhosas but not so much because when God made Adam and Eve they were Zulu just ask people at Shembe. Come to think of it, that was the only advice my parents gave me when I left for school. It’s not like they could talk about University because truth be told they had never been there.
My name is Samke but that little witch decided to rename S like I did not have a life and a story of my own. She even said S for snake and everyone laughed thinking it’s fun to shame yet another girl child in a country full of abuse. I was a victim too but not once did I see a hashtag for justice for Samke. All I heard was that she deserved it because she liked things. Imagine, the some of my worth was belittled to me liking things. What if I told you that my death was not because I died in an accident but because someone killed me and then made it look like I drove off a cliff all by myself. In whose car? I had a beautiful life by many peoples standards and a lot of money in my bank accounts so why would I be so reckless to want to kill myself by drinking and driving.
I don’t know when you will post or if you will ever post again but I have hope.
I have been married to my husband for 4 years now. At first everything was fine. We got pregnant the first year of our marriage and everything changed. He would complain that I was not attractive due to the pregnancy and of my weight. After I gave birth I struggled to lose the baby fat and now my body is just a mess. He started cheating on me and does not even hide. He speaks to women on the phone with me sitting next to him and when I complain he tells me that the door is open I can leave anytime. I told my family about this and a meeting was held were he promised to stop but he did not. Before lockdown I thought I was going to divorce him and then this lockdown happened and now I am pregnant. I don’t know what to do. I have not told him and my brain says I must abort whilst my heart says no. I cannot be with this man and piling more babies will not help me.