LETHUTHANDO: The Traditional Wife Novel Chapter 5

LETHUTHANDO : The Traditional Wife
CHAPTER 05
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LETHUTHANDO DLOMO
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The silence in the room was the first thing I noticed—it was too heavy, too still. Usually, I could hear Khulubuse’s rhythmic breathing or the rustle of the blankets as he turned, but this morning, the only sound was the distant crow of a neighbor’s rooster and the faint hum of the wind against the windowpane.
​I reached out my hand, my fingers searching for the warmth of his back, but all I felt was the cold, smooth fabric of the fitted sheet. My eyes snapped open.
​The space beside me was perfectly flat, the pillow plumped as if no one had ever laid their head there. For a heart-stopping second, I thought I had dreamt our conversation from last night. I thought maybe he hadn’t really told me he was leaving for Johannesburg. But then, I saw it.
​Resting right where his chest would have been was a single red rose.
​Its petals were so deep a crimson they looked almost black in the early morning light, still holding a few beads of moisture that shimmered like tiny glass eyes. Tucked underneath the stem was a small, torn piece of paper.
​I sat up slowly, my heart thudding against my ribs. My fingers trembled as I pulled the note toward me. I recognized his handwriting immediately—thick, hurried strokes that leaned slightly to the right, the ink a bit smudged at the edges.
“Mkami,
​I couldn’t bring myself to wake you. You looked so peaceful, and after everything, I just wanted you to have those extra hours of rest. I’m writing this while the sun is still hiding. By the time you read this, I’ll be on the bus, heading toward the city.
​Please, Lethu, take care of yourself while I’m gone. Don’t let them push you too hard. Remember what we talked about—you comes first before anything now. I’m going there to build something for us, a place where we can finally breathe. I’ll call you the moment I touch down at Park Station.
​I love you, sthandwa sami. Stay strong for me.
​— Khulubuse”
​I pressed the paper to my nose, catching the faint, lingering scent of his cologne and the earthy sweetness of the rose. A tear escaped and hit the “K” in his name, blurring the ink.
​He was really gone, he left me with people I didn’t come here for. I honestly thought he’d change his mind and take me with him but I was wrong, he left me. The house already felt smaller, the walls leaning in with the weight of his absence. I knew the moment I stepped out of this room, his mother and Thoko would be waiting with a list of chores and a fresh batch of insults, but for now, I just stayed under the covers, clutching that rose as if it were the only thing keeping me anchored to the earth.
I didn’t even have time to wash my face before the first blow landed—not a physical one, but the sharp, jagged edge of my mother-in-law’s voice cutting through the morning stillness.
​”MaDlomo! Are you planning to sleep until the sun sets, or has your husband’s departure turned you into a queen?”
​The door swung open before I could even place Khulu’s note under my phone case. His mother stood there, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes scanning the room as if looking for a reason to be even angrier.
“I hope that’s not one of my roses” she said Taking two steps forward.
“I don’t know where Khula got it.” I said defending myself, the person I came here for is now gone. If I say something wrong, they might hurt me badly, these people are capable, I’ve seen that.
“Go start the fire”
​”I’m coming, Mama,” I said, my voice sounding thick and small in my own ears.
​”You’re coming? The kettle has been cold for an hour. My son leaves to slave away in the city so you can sit here and grow fat on his sweat, and this is how you thank him? By letting his mother starve?”
​I stepped out of the bed, my head bowed instinctively. I can’t let them get on top of my head like this all the time.
“I’m sorry. I’ll start the fire for you now.”
​”Don’t just start the fire,” she snapped, stepping aside so I could pass into the narrow hallway.
“Thoko’s kids need their school uniforms pressed, and the floor in the lounge is filthy from the rain last night. And since Khulubuse isn’t here to play hero and wash your dishes for you, you’ll be doing the mountain of pots from last night too.”
​I walked past her into the kitchen. The sink was overflowing. It wasn’t just ‘a few pots’; it looked like every dish in the house had been used and left for me as a homecoming gift for his absence.
​”Why are you standing there like a statue?” she demanded, following me. She leaned against the doorframe, watching me with a cold, piercing intensity.
“Does your heart hurt so much that your hands have stopped working? He’s only been gone four hours, MaDlomo. Imagine how much work you’ll have to do by the time he comes back with a house for you.”
​She laughed then, a dry, mocking sound that rattled in her throat.
​”A house,” she repeated, shaking her head.
“He thinks he’s a man now because he’s a driver in Jozi. He’ll learn. And you? You’ll learn that as long as you are in this yard, you belong to us. Now, get the tea ready. And don’t you dare let it get cold like your womb.”
​The sting of that last sentence felt like a whip. I gripped the edge of the counter until my knuckles turned white. I wanted to scream at her, give her a slap or something that can make me feel better, but I can’t. Khula doesn’t play when it comes to her mother, she’ll go cry to him and I’ll starve for days as a punishment for disrespecting the woman who gave birth to him. I’ve been there once, he even had his way with me while I was weak from hungry. I thought it was just punishment for disrespecting his mother, I wouldn’t let anyone disrespect my parents too.
I felt something shifting inside me. It wasn’t the old fear. It was a quiet, cold realization. Khulu was in Johannesburg to build a future, but here, in the trenches of this kitchen, I was going to have to learn how to fight a different kind of war.
“You know what?” I turned off the kettle and turned to look at her. She turned to look at me.
“I’m not going to bow down to you all the time. I’m tired.”
“I don’t care, yenza lapho…”
“Do it yourself. I’m tired of you treating me like this. I’m tired of everything. I’m leaving this place.” I said making my way out. If Khula wants me, he’ll find me at home. I can’t do this anymore.
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KHULUBUSE ZONDO
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The moment my feet hit the pavement of Park Station, the air felt different—thicker, charged with a frantic, electric energy that I hadn’t felt back home. I stepped off the bus, my bag heavy on my shoulder, and for a second, I just stood there, pinned against the metal railing as a sea of people rushed past me.
​Everything in Johannesburg felt massive and loud.
​The first thing that hit me was the sound. It wasn’t just the cars; it was a symphony of shouting taxi marshals, the hiss of bus brakes, and the rhythmic bass thumping from a storefront speaker somewhere down the block.
​I looked up, and the skyscrapers seemed to lean in over the streets, their glass windows reflecting a sky so blue it looked painted. To my left, the Hillbrow Tower stood like a giant needle keeping the clouds in place, while the Ponte Tower loomed in the distance, a hollow concrete crown that felt both legendary and a little bit intimidating.
​I can smell the mix of roasted mealies from a street vendor, the sharp tang of exhaust fumes, and the expensive perfume of a woman in a power suit rushing toward the Gautrain.
It’s a lot to take in. There’s a weight to the air here—the “City of Gold” doesn’t give anything away for free. I felt small, sure, but I also felt awake. Like if I could just find my rhythm in this chaos, anything was possible.
​I gripped the strap of my bag a little tighter, took a deep breath of that dusty, metallic Jozi air, and started walking. I wasn’t just a visitor anymore; I was in it.
My phone rings, I answered.
“Where are you?” my brother says.
“I’m still at the park station.”
“I can’t see you. Where… Oh! I can see you now.”
The call ended. I went through my contacts and called Lethuthando.
“Hi”
“Mkami,i wanted to let you know that I got here safe.”
“That’s good.”
“You don’t sound okay.”
“I’m going back home.”
“What? Why?”
“I can’t stay here with your mother and sister. I’m tired Khulu.”
“Bekezela sthandwa Sami…”
“I can’t okay! Not anymore.”
“Where does that put us?”
“If you want me, you’ll fetch me home. I’m not going back there if you’re not there.”
“Okay, i hear you. I love you, okay?”
“I love you too.”
“Everything will be better soon. I promise.”
“I hear you. Let me finish up packing.”
“Okay,bye.”
“Bye” she said and ended the call. I starred at my phone for a minute.
“Is everything okay?” Misikhaya said.
“Yeah, Lethuthando is going back to her house. She’ll be fine there. At least I won’t stress much.”
He looked at me for a while and nodded slowly. He took my bag from me and led the way.