THE RISE OF TUMELO By Author’s Voice Chapter 21

THE RISE OF TUMELO
CHAPTER 21
NTHABISENG
As I nervously step out of the Uber, the crunch of gravel beneath my feet echoes my racing heart. I hoist my luggage and make my way towards the imposing gate, a mix of anxiety and determination swirling in my stomach. The fading sunlight casts long shadows, making the mansion look even more intimidating. I press the intercom, my fingers drumming a staccato beat on the metal gate. The air is thick with the scent of blooming flowers, but I can’t appreciate the beauty – I’m too focused on the task at hand.
The seconds tick by, each one feeling like an eternity. Finally, a soft voice crackles through the speaker, and a woman in her 30s appears, her features etched with a mix of curiosity and caution. Her hair is pulled back into a neat bun, and her eyes narrow slightly as she takes in my appearance. “Hello, can I help you?” she asks, her gentle tone doing little to ease my nerves.
I flash a confident smile, “I think I can help you,” I say, making my way in. But before I can take another step, she swiftly moves to block my path, her hand closing around my wrist like a vice. I yank my arm free, and her eyes widen in surprise, a frown creasing her forehead.
“Girl, what are you doing in my mansion? I never invited you in, it’s probably a wrong address.” she says, her voice laced with a hint of steel.
I chuckle, a sarcastic clap punctuating the air. “Wrong address? Magogo (granny), do you have a loose screw?” I think to myself, she must be the housekeeper or something – she seems way too old for Tshepo, and, let’s be real, not exactly a stunner. Her expression darkens, and I can almost see the anger simmering beneath the surface.
“You’re insulting me in my own premises?” she says, her voice low and menacing. “I will ask for the last time, leave my house before I call the police.” She holds up her phone, the screen glowing with an air of authority.
I stand my ground, my chest puffed out, “I’m here to see my boyfriend,” I declare, my voice unwavering. Her eyebrows snap together, and for a moment, we’re locked in a battle of wills. The tension is palpable, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. Her gaze flicks to my luggage, and I can see the wheels turning in her head.
The woman’s face turns beet red with rage as she folds her arms across her chest, her eyes flashing with indignation. “And what makes you think your boyfriend stays here? It’s just me and my husband, plus our kids,” she says, her tone dripping with venom.
I let out a mocking laugh, the sound echoing through the driveway. “Ayy sis, which means your husband is my boyfriend,” I say, a sly grin spreading across my face. Her lower jaw drops in shock, and for a moment, she’s speechless.
“Lead the way in, I’m here to stay. He’s also mine, as much as he’s yours,” I declare, my voice firm and unyielding. The woman’s face turns a deep shade of purple as she struggles to contain her anger. She’s breathing heavily, her chest heaving with rage.
“I will sue you, Yezwa! Leave my premises before I call the police!” she half shouts, her voice trembling with fury. She tries to shake me, but I’m not having it. I’m not going anywhere.
“I’m not going anywhere, I’m pregnant with his baby,” I say, my eyes locked on hers, daring her to challenge me. Her face goes pale, and for a moment, she’s stunned into silence. But it’s short-lived. She grips her phone tightly and dials a few numbers before tapping the calling button.
Wait, she can’t call the cops on me, I’m pregnant. I react on instinct, slapping her phone out of her hand. It falls to the ground, the screen cracking loudly. “Oh no, I didn’t mean that,” I mutter, realizing it’s an iPhone 13.
“You see what you did!?” she screams, charging towards me.
As she tries to slap me, I grab her and pull her to the ground. The sound of her hitting the pavement is satisfying, and I let out a primal scream as I slap her mercilessly. Today, she’s going to learn who’s boss. What part of “Tshepo doesn’t want you” doesn’t she understand?
The woman’s eyes widen in shock as she realizes she’s been taken down. She tries to scramble to her feet, but I’m too quick, pinning her to the ground with my knee. “You think you can just wail into my house, break my phone, and attack me?” she spits, her voice venomous.
I lean in, my face inches from hers. “I think I just did,” I say, my tone dripping with confidence. “Now, are you going to call off your dogs, or do I need to make a scene in front of the neighbors?”
She struggles beneath me, but I’m not budging. After a moment, she seems to deflate, her body going limp. “What do you want?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I smile, triumphant. “I want to see Tshepo. Now.”
The woman’s eyes flicker, and for a moment, I think I see a glimpse of fear. But it’s quickly replaced by a cold, calculating gaze. “Fine,” she says, her voice steady. “I’ll take you to him.”
I step back, allowing her to get up. She brushes herself off, her eyes never leaving mine. “This isn’t over,” she says, her voice low and menacing.
I smile, knowing I’ve got the upper hand. “I’m counting on it,” I say, following her into the mansion.
As we walk, I take in the opulent surroundings, my eyes widening at the sheer scale of the place. This is going to be good, I think to myself.
–––
NTANDO
The tension in the room is palpable as Sihle continues to move around, her silence speaking volumes. She’s folding clothes with precision, her eyes fixed on the task at hand, but I can sense the anger radiating from her. I watch her, my frustration growing by the second. The sound of the fabric rustling is the only noise, and it’s starting to drive me crazy.
I’m feeling frustrated and caught off guard by Sihle’s pregnancy, especially since it’s not the first time she’s been pregnant under similar circumstances. She’s told me she was on contraceptives, but ended up pregnant anyway – first with a miscarriage, and now this.
As I’m thinking about it, I’m getting more and more annoyed. How can she be so careless? I mean, I want a child, but not at this moment. I’m still struggling to make ends meet, and now this.
“Sihle,” I say, my voice a bit louder than intended, breaking the silence. I’ve been out looking for a job, and the only thing that’s come out of it is a measly R350 for sweeping a stranger’s lawn. The memory of the woman’s pitying smile still stings, and I’m not in the mood for Sihle’s silent treatment.
She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even flinch. It’s like I’m talking to a brick wall. I feel a surge of anger, but I try to keep my cool. I take a step closer, my eyes locked on hers, but she’s avoiding my gaze. “Ayy marn Esihle, I’m getting tired of this silent treatment,” I say, my voice rising. “Why are you acting like a teenager? We’re adults, for fuck’s sake! I’m tired of begging.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when Sihle spins around, her eyes blazing. Her face is flushed, and her chest is heaving with rage. “Ohh, so you want to talk to me about terminating our baby!?” she shouts, her voice trembling with fury. Her eyes are wild, and for a moment, I’m taken aback.
“What kind of father are you?” she spits, her voice dripping with venom. Her words cut deep, and I feel a surge of defensiveness.
I take a step forward, my hands clenched into fists. “A caring one, not a selfish one like you are,” I say, my words lashing out like a whip. “You know we have nothing, but you’re obsessed with bringing a baby into poverty.”
Sihle’s face consorts in shock, her eyes welling up with tears. She looks like I’ve slapped her, and for a moment, I feel a pang of guilt. But I’m too angry to back down. “I’m talking about being realistic, Sihle,” I say, my voice firm. “I can’t watch our child suffer, and I don’t think you can either.” She fills her eyes.
“You’re not thinking about the bigger picture, Sihle,” I say, my voice a bit softer, trying to reason with her. “We can’t afford to bring a child into this world right now. We’re struggling to make ends meet as it is.”
Sihle’s eyes narrow, and she takes a step forward, her voice low and menacing. “You’re not thinking about me, or our child,” she says, her words dripping with venom. “You’re thinking about yourself, and your own convenience.”
I feel a surge of anger at her accusation, but I try to keep my cool. “That’s not true,” I say, my voice firm. “I’m thinking about what’s best for everyone involved. And right now, that means not bringing a child into this world.”
Sihle’s face twists in pain, and she lets out a sob. “You’re just like my father,” she says, her voice cracking. “I’m not termination our baby!” She half shouts walking out the room.
–––
NARRATOR
Andile’s lounging on his bed, a huge grin plastered on his face as he chats with Vuyiswa on his phone. He’s happy and can’t wait to meet her on the weekend.
“Hello, Vuyi,” he says, his voice smooth and confident.
Vuyiswa sounds shy, and Andile’s loving it. “Hi,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
Andile’s intrigued, he props himself up on his elbow, his eyes closed as he imagines what she’s like. “You have a beautiful voice, you said you’re around Nelspruit?” he asks, trying to picture her.
“Yeah, I came back from Botswana a few weeks ago,” she replies, her tone a bit more relaxed now.
Andile’s curious, “Mhh, you said you’re 18?” He wants to confirm, she’s looking younger than her age in her pics.
“Right,” Vuyiswa says, a hint of a laugh in her voice.
Andile’s mind’s already racing, “So we’re meeting this coming Saturday, right?” He’s excited, and, ahem, his enthusiasm is showing. “I’m looking forward to it, I’ve seen your pics, but I want to see you in person.”
Vuyiswa giggles, “I’m looking forward to it too.”
Andile’s smiling even harder, “Cool, what time works for you? I can come pick you up.” Now he’s 21, with a driver’s licence he got at 19. His dad’s Toyota Corolla is basically sitting idle, so he’s gonna make good use of it.
“Around 11am.” She says, Andile glances at the clock on his phone, the bright screen lighting up the dimly lit room, and realizes it’s already 10pm. He doesn’t want the conversation to end, but he knows Vuyiswa might have other plans,a study session. He reluctantly pulls the phone away from his ear, his eyes still fixed on the screen, and says, “Hey, Vuyi, it’s getting a bit late, I shouldn’t keep you.”
He waits for her response, his thumb mindlessly scrolling through his social media feed, his attention still focused on the conversation. Vuyiswa laughs, the sound light and airy, and Andile’s grin widens, “Yeah, I have an early start tomorrow, but it was nice talking to you.”
Andile nods, even though she can’t see him, and says, “Same here, I’m looking forward to Saturday then.” He props himself up on his elbow, his eyes gazing out the window as he waits for her response.
Vuyiswa’s voice comes back, soft and gentle, “Definitely.” Andile’s heart skips a beat, and he feels a flutter in his chest. He’s about to say something else when she adds, “I’m looking forward to it too.”
Andile’s eyes snap back to the phone, a huge smile spreading across his face.
They chat for another minute, discussing plans for Saturday, before Andile finally says, “Okay, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?”
Vuyiswa agrees, and Andile says, “Cool, talk to you tomorrow then. Goodnight, Vuyi.” He waits for her response, his heart beating slightly faster, before she says, “Goodnight, Andile,” and they hang up.
Andile flops back onto his bed, a huge smile still plastered on his face, and lets out a triumphant whoop. He can’t wait to see Vuyiswa on Saturday.
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