Confessions of a Modern U’Makoti(BWWM)

Confession #13

Confession #13

I was going through the equivalent of kidney failure but through my tear-ducts.

I didn’t even know my body could retain that much water. And on the fifth day of bawling, my tears ceased. I was only left with a very hallow. I stared at my alarm clock debating whether or not I should go to work and fake an altogether appearance again or just stay in bed.

I ended up heading to work. I needed the distraction, not to mention the money. But I’d been going through writer’s block for the last five days. Five days of staring at my computer screen. Five days of a stupid blinking curser. Five days of me checking my messages, in hopes that Aaron would take me back and say it was all a mistake. It wasn’t happening.

So by the time lunchtime hit, I pretended I wasn’t feeling well and left work early. I needed time to myself. And the moment I got home, I got dressed in my classic worn out sweatpants and stained t-shirt. It was routine, ice-cream and America sitcom binge watching.

I’d just begun season seven of Friends, when I heard a knock at the door. And being my disgustingly optimistic self I had the tiniest thread of hope. I rushed out of my pity-party only to have a delivery man standing at my door.

“Are you Ms. Lestie?” He asked formally, focusing on the clipboard in front of him.

“Yes.”

“Sign here please.” He handed me the clipboard before walking to the trunk of his car. He returned with two large frames covered in plastic wrapping. My heart instantly sunk.

It was Aaron and Samuel’s paintings. I felt my knees heavy and the one strand of hope I had, was diminished. I placed the paintings on my kitchen counter. There was no hidden letter from Aaron between the paintings. This situation was getting depressing. I’d never felt this dishearten about any of my last few relationships.

With Lwazi it was only because I’d lost all self-respect from myself. With Sbu, I didn’t even care because our relationship was more of an open one anyway. With Tapiwe we’d agreed that once he got the job at my dad’s mine we were done. Now he makes six figures a year. And Michael, he was actually more into my designer clothes more than anything. And every guy before that had been easy to get over. Our relationship was more of a contract than anything. They got their jobs and their money or their fifteen minutes of fame of being with a princess and I got… What did I get?

I got that sad dirty feeling at the end. I got less self-esteem than a teenage model in the fashion industry. I got such misconstrued ideas about what a real relationship should be. And we can’t blame that on Tumi or my dad. But on me because I liked the contract attachment.

Maybe that’s what hurt the most. That Aaron and I weren’t like that. That he actually wanted to be with someone like me. With my snarky sense of humour and my level of sarcasm. And me with my terrible reputation with men, still went for it. I still let myself almost fall for this guy. What did you expect?

I didn’t even know the answer to that question but another knock at the door pulled me away from my thoughts. And right there behind the door, in the flesh.

Was my mother.

She wore her hair under a well-constructed purple hat and wore a white skirt, blazer and blouse. My eyebrows rose, usually my mother always followed my father. And it looked as those my father wasn’t anywhere to be seen so this was all very unnatural for me.

“Ma?”

“Hello Nthatile.” My mother was always the one for formalities I couldn’t always grasp why. There was always an imaginary wall between the two of us. That’s probably why you kept on running to daddy.

I ushered her in. Attempting to apologize for the mess, her royal eyes were forced to see. Hoping she wouldn’t get her white attire dirty. She asked for a cup of tea. Which I made like how I did when I was a kid. One dollop of honey, boiling hot water, thin sliced lemon and the rooibos teabag was only allowed to stay within the water for twenty five seconds.

I was nervous. My mother seemed composed with an airy glow surrounding her. She noticed not only my terrible appearance but my puffy eyes. She didn’t comment, just cleared her throat. And we sat in an uncomfortable silence while she sipped on her tea. I’d always been taught not to talk unless spoken to, so I watched her. She gave a small smile before placing the empty tea cup on the coffee table before addressing me.

“You don’t look well.” No s**t.

“That’s because I’m not, Ma. Apparently I’m getting married? To some guy I don’t know or love and now the one guy that I have ever had any affection for won’t even take note of my existence. So yeah, Ma I’m doing dandy.” I bit my tongue immediately after my outburst, apologizing profusely but she only laughed.

Mind you this is one of the rare occasions when she did laugh and it was freaking me out. Gracefully she held out her hand. I took the minimal affection I could get. This was the only affection she’d usually shown. I mean, I only got hugs when someone had died. And that was one time.

She sighed. “My beautiful baby girl.” She mused as her hand brushed my cheek, the expensive silk covering her hand made the gesture a little detached.

“Why are you acting so weird?” I blurted, I did that unapologetically. I couldn’t understand her sudden shower of affection.

“Well, I’ve always been this affectionate. Just never with my children. Your father had the best nanny’s in the country give you all the forced affection you needed while he busied me with charity balls and gala dinners.” Her tone was as calm and poised as ever, but the tinge of anger was seeping in with her every word.

“Uhm, Ma?”

Her eyes caught mine, I could see a murky ring beginning to from on the edge of her irises and her skin wasn’t as rejuvenated as all those spa days had promised.

“How’s Aaron taking the news?” She asked.

“We broke up.” I bit back some more tears. Neither of my parents have seen me cry, only heard me and today wasn’t the day to break that record.

“Your father’s going to love that. Don’t tell him.” She ordered.

“But-“

“How do you think your father and I got married?” She was changing subjects so fast it was like running four different races at once.

“I don’t know, maybe you guys met at the river and just got married after that.” I shrugged, I’d never learnt about my parent’s love story because it was always an organic one, whatever that meant.

She chuckled before squeezing my hand lightly. “No. I was always a princess. First daughter to the Kgoŝi. Your father and I were arranged, but our parents made it look like we’d met by chance. Like how you met Lesego.” She paused, her smile dropped. “I didn’t know him nor did I really like him that much. He was very….” She looked for the right word, “Mechanical. Anyway before I knew it I was married and with my second child. After that your father and I kept our relationship very professional-“

“And that’s what you want for me? Thanks mom.” I rolled my eyes.

“I never said that’s what I wanted for you. Your brother was lucky, the girl we’d arranged him with. Was the girl he’d always been in love with. But you fell for someone who’s not only below our class but someone who’s white as well. “

I looked at her. She was giving off no indication that Aaron’s race was a problem for her nor was his class. She was being genuine. She sighed.

“When I was your age, I was an unhappy wife, with a man who cared more about outshining his brother than he did about our marriage. Now there’s a loop hole to this whole Lobola business-“

“There is?” I was already willing to do whatever to get out of my situation.

“Will you let me finish?” I stayed silent, nodding my head. “If you have two suitors that are willing to pay Lobola for you. You can reject one to be with the other. Or you Lobola yourself.”

My eyebrows furrowed, she stayed silent allowing me to ask my question. “Lobola myself?”

“There’s no rule that says you can’t therefore you can.” She simply shrugged her shoulders.

“How?” The million dollar question.

“Well anyone who’s not a woman can conduct the negotiations for you. It all depends on where the money’s from. If you can prove after the negotiations that the money is from you. And Nthatile, I don’t mean the allowance your father gives you. It really has to be money you earned. Then you can admit you bought yourself. You wouldn’t belong to your father or anyone else for that matter. Just yourself.”

I paused for a moment. I knew I had the money but I was planning on using it for something else. But not being my father’s property was a tantalising idea.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I know, we didn’t have a great relationship. And I know that I can’t have any of my children go through what I’m going through. But lastly, because Tumi was selected by your father – as was Lesego – and I don’t trust him. “

And my mother sparked an idea. Her loop hole could work. But there was a single fault in our plan. “I don’t know anyone who’d do the negotiations for me.”

“Aaron still loves you.” Love? She’s joking.

“You’re just filled with answers today aren’t you?”

“Honestly, it doesn’t take a rock scientist to see that. When we met for breakfast, he would look at you like you were some creature made of solid gold. And when he told your dad he wanted to marry you, he wasn’t lying. You know how people light up when they talk about something they love? He did exactly that. That boy can be as cold as he wants but he can’t fight it forever. He loves you. And you? Even though you put that heart of yours through irreparable damage- are still stupid enough to love him. And if love doesn’t work we’ll pay him. Everyone has a price Nthatile.” She smiled. That’s probably when I realized my mother wasn’t the airheaded housewife she’d been appearing to be all this time.

“I don’t know.”

“Fine, it’s your happiness here not mine. Anyway, we have to get going. Negotiations start in the morning and you have to get packing.”

“Ma, I’m not going.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nthatile, unless you want to be a married woman by Sunday morning you will go. You will do what you always do and sabotage this thing for as long as we need. Stop being a stupid princess and start being the smart woman I’ve always known you to be!” With that she stormed out of the house. She said she’d be back later to pick me up in the car.

I’d dutifully begun packing. For the first time ever my mother was in my corner and she was a cunning b***h. How could I have overlooked this?

And when my mother returned I was packed, dressed and already loading my bags into the car. She looked… Proud? Well today was filled with surprises. She’d explained that the negotiations were usually done during on a Saturday to prevent loss of productivity at the mine. We’d conducted a plan on the car-ride home. Three hours of none stop talking and my mother and I had come up with this;

With the money I’d saved up from the tender age of fourteen (she was shocked that I’d been working while in boarding school. Oh the horror, her little princess working in a shoe shop). I’d faked an engagement. We’d pay Aaron, Wessel and a distant uncle of mine – who my father had never met because Malome, never liked my father- to do the actual negotiating. And once the negotiations were done . We’d reveal who’s money and idea this all belonged to. And hopefully my father would disown me as well and get the hell out of my life. Sure it needed a bit of tweaking. But I’d allow the universe to sort out the small details.

Now the big details such as Aaron. Needed an even bigger nudge and since we’d hadn’t spoken since our… I still couldn’t say the B-word. It caused a wave of tears to erupt from my overused tear duct. And there wasn’t some universal book on how to ask your ex-boyfriends to major favours for you because if there was I would have learnt the book word for word.

Soon my mind lost its train of thought as we arrived in my home town. Indigenously our humble little Pedi tribe was called the Moopetsi tribe. Our village turned city run along the not so complicatedly named Moopetsi river. The mine was on the outskirts of the town further away from the river but not far enough to prevent acid mine drainage. The two hills across the city over looked the entire kingdom.

One hill – of course the higher one- housed my Uncle (The Chief’s or Kgoŝi’s) not so humble home. And the other hill housed my childhood home. The city boomed with a fully-functional CBD, commercial and industrial zone. Not to mention the clearly visible residential districts. Those who lived closer to the river were the poorest. Those in the valley’s higher laying areas lead a comfortable life. And those few elites lived amongst us royals on the Moopetsi Hill.

Socially we’d been groomed to simply accept Moopetsi’s social structure. Those who are poor usually stayed poor, only a lucky few managed to reach the luxury of middle class. Throughout my childhood my parents would both explain how it was always in a person’s blood. How the family that one is born into determines how far they go in life. But that doesn’t explain Aaron, who was born as a bastard child and is now a successful entrepreneur – minus the water shortage.

Come to think of it, nothing I’ve ever learnt on Moopetsi Hill ever applied to anything I’d encountered in Joburg. I highly doubt Lobola was a real social construct in Joburg. Then again nothing tribal was ever a social construct in Joburg.

So there I was hundreds of kilometres away from home, and yet I was still at home. A much more expensive and impersonal version of my home. My parents and I had dinner together. My mother returned back to her subservient nature. While my father spoke to the walls. I refused to talk to him. And when he questioned my actions, he was only met with the sound of my wooden chair scrapping against our marble floors.

However cutting dinner short didn’t lessen the long hours of the day that followed. The negotiations started at sunrise, the ringing of bells and the humming of women woke me up. My duty as the bride was to stay put in my room for the entire day. But soon once I’d heard the ululating of elderly woman my stomach dropped. My mother hadn’t given me any advice on how one would ruin their own negotiations so the drama degree I’d acquired would have to come in handy.

I tip-toed along the tiled corridors and stairways until I heard the gruff sounds of male voices. They muttered their words through my father’s study room door but I could still make out their words. Need I remind you that this was all forbidden and so was almost laughing when an unfamiliar voice praised my father for the daughter he’d ‘raised’. My father had begun reciting a list of all my achievement – some I’d even remembered I’d gotten – each achieve added a certain amount of value onto his horse – I meant daughter. The list could go on for hours as the two families conversed, but I’d had enough.

I forced myself through the door. I tried to make it look as accidental as possible. Tripping on a loose tile or something. The room filled with gasps as I gave all twelve of the eyes staring back at me a shy smile.

“These negotiations need to stop. I need to talk to my husband.” I eyed Lesego who sat between two elderly men who I’d amused were his uncle and father. My father tried to reprimand me but I simply went on to demand for the man who I’d soon be married to.

Lesego wasn’t nervous as the room cleared instead he gave a sly smile. The type of smile that if you stared at for too long, would have slime pouring out of your every pore. I instantly felt dirty.

“I see you’ve grown to like the title.” He mused with a smug expression painted across his face.

“Do I look like a glowing bride?” I spat. He shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

“We do what we must to keep this town alive.”

“That doesn’t mean dragging me into marriage. You don’t know me.”

“I know that your family, is one of the only Bantu tribes within the entire South Africa which doesn’t depend on taxpayer’s money to keep the kingdom running. I know that your family’s mine is one of the country’s biggest assets. I know that you have money flowing from your every orifice, and that turns me on to no end.” He licked his lips, smacking them together as though he was about to eat.

And that’s when it clicked. He was exactly like the rest. And I wouldn’t let him have it. Not when I felt whatever emotion I felt for Aaron.

“I reject your Lobola.”

“Is that so?” He wasn’t the least bit threated, which made me confused. He seemed so confident, almost too confident. He began stalking around me as though I was his target. “You’re an old maid. Your father needs my family’s smelting company and someone to play house with his princess. If you don’t accept me, there will be others. Not as bad as Tumi, of course but I like to think of myself as a nice guy.”

“I don’t trust you.”

His smile spread. He was feeding off my frustration. Relishing in my confusing and throwing around my past experiences in my face just for his entertainment. And for a second, he scared me. There was something about the soullessness in his eyes and his cunning smile that just didn’t sit well with me.

“Nthatile, I’m going to pay 2.5 million for you. Anyone who’s willing to pay that much for you is worth trusting don’t you think? Unless you think that white boy can save you now? “ He noticed my cold exterior break at the mention of Aaron and gave a cool chuckle. “You’re mine.”

With that he walked out the room. With my breath shaky from the brief exchange and a single thought on my mind; you’re not going to be anyone’s property ever again.