LETHUTHANDO: The Traditional Wife Novel Chapter 9

LETHUTHANDO : The Traditional Wife
CHAPTER 09
​.
LETHUTHANDO DLOMO
.
The dust from George’s Mercedes hadn’t even settled before the silence of the house began to feel heavy. My parents were in the kitchen, speaking in low, hushed tones about the confrontation. I stayed in the lounge, staring at the empty chairs where my in-laws had sat moments ago, spitting venom and claiming me as “property.”
​My heart was still hammering against my ribs. My father’s words had been my shield, but I needed to hear it from the source. I needed to hear Khulubuse’s voice. I needed to know that he truly stood behind me, especially now that his family was on the warpath.
​I took my phone and dialed his number.
​Ring… ring… ring…
It cut to voicemail. I frowned, checking the signal. I tried again.
​Ring… ring… ring…
​Still nothing. My thumb hovered over the keypad. Maybe he was busy? Misikhaya’s photo showed him getting into a taxi at 5:00 AM; he should be settled by now. I tried a third time, praying he would pick up just so I could tell him I was safe, and that I was starting my business.
​Ring… ring… ring…
Nothing. A cold knot of anxiety began to twist in my stomach. Was he avoiding me? Or was he already being pressured by his family from the other side?
​I couldn’t sit in silence. I needed to talk to someone who actually knew what was happening on the ground in Joburg. I dialed Misikhaya.
​He picked up on the second ring.
​“Lethuthando? Is everything okay?” His voice was warm, but there was a hint of concern there.
​“Khaya… I tried calling Khula, but he’s not answering,” I started, my voice trembling slightly.
“They were just here. The Zondos. Uncle George, Thokozile, and MaNxumalo.”
​I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end.
“At your parents’ house? Already?”
​“Yes. It was horrible Khaya. They came here demanding ‘their property.’ They threatened my father, told him he’d have to pay back every cent of the lobola if I didn’t get in the car right then and there. They accused me of insulting them, of being a bad wife because I’m ‘tired.’”
​“And what happened?” he asked quietly.
​“My father stood up to them. He told them that Khulubuse gave me permission to be here. He kicked them out. But Khaya, the way Uncle George looked… he was possessed. He said Khulubuse was ‘weak’ for letting me stay here. I’m scared of what they’re going to do next. I’m scared they’ll call Khula and poison his mind before I can even talk to him.”
​There was a long pause. I could hear the city noise in the background of his call—the hooting of taxis and the distant roar of Johannesburg.
​“Listen to me, Lethu,” Misikhaya said, his voice dropping to a reassuring level.
“Khulubuse is… he’s going through a lot trying to get things settled here. Don’t let their noise get to you. You are safe with your parents. Your father did the right thing. As for the Zondos? Let them bark. They have no power over you as long as you stay firm.”
​“But why isn’t he answering his phone, Khaya?”
​“He’s probably driving,” Misikhaya said, though he sounded a bit hesitant.
“I’ll check on him for you. I’ll make sure he knows you called. Just breathe, okay? Don’t let them steal your peace.”
​“Thank you, Khaya. I don’t know what I’d do without a friend like you.”
He chuckled.
​“You’ll never have to find out. I’ll call you later tonight.”
​I hung up, feeling a tiny bit of the weight lift, but the silence from Khulubuse still stung. I looked at the kitchen where my mother was now humming a hymn. She was right. I had to move forward. If the Zondos wanted a war, they could have it—but I wasn’t going to be their casualty anymore.
.
KHULUBUSE ZONDO
.
The interior of the taxi smelled of stale coffee and morning rain. I sat in the driver’s seat at the Johannesburg rank, my hand resting on the gear lever, watching the marshals whistle and wave commuters into the back of my Quantum. Being a taxi driver in this city meant your eyes had to be everywhere at once—on the road, on the passengers, and on the clock.
​But today, my mind was back in the village.
​I had let Lethu’s calls go to voicemail because the guilt was eating me alive. Every time I shifted gears, I thought about her. I was up here dodging traffic and aggressive drivers to build a life for us, while she was back home dodging the sharp tongues of my family. I wanted her to be a housewife, to be safe and comfortable at home without the stress of the world on her shoulders. That was the dream—the reason I want to work these eighteen-hour shifts.
​My phone vibrated against my thigh. It was Ma this time around. I knew if I didn’t answer, she’d find some way to track me down. I clicked the Bluetooth headset.
​”Mama?”
​”Khulubuse!” she shrieked, her voice competing with the roar of a nearby bus.
“Do you know the shame? We went to the Dlomo house to bring your wife to order, and we were treated like dogs! Your father-in-law barked at George! And he had the audacity to say you gave her permission to leave. Tell me he’s lying, Khula. Tell me you haven’t turned against your own blood for that girl.”
I told her yesterday, why is she acting like I didn’t? ​I pulled the handbrake up with a violent click. A passenger looked at me through the rearview mirror, but I didn’t care.
​”Mama, listen to me very carefully,” I said, my voice dropping into a low, cold register.
“I am in this city driving from 4:00 AM until midnight so that my family can eat. I told Lethuthando she could stay with her parents to rest. That was my decision. Mine.”
​”But the lobola—”
​”I am the one who paid for those cows,” I interrupted. “From this moment on, back out of my business. Stay away from the Dlomo house. If I find out you or George have stepped foot there again to harass my wife, you will have to answer to me. I am the head of my house, Ma. Start acting like you respect that.”
​I cut the call before she could let out the first sob. My heart was thumping against my ribs. I had spent so long trying to keep the peace that I had let my wife become a target.
​I scrolled through my logs and dialed Lethu. She picked up before the first ring could even finish.
​”Khula?” She sounded like she had been holding her breath for hours.
​”Lethu,” I said, leaning my head back against the headrest.
“I’m sorry. I was on a trip, the traffic was heavy. Are you okay? I know they were there.”
​”It was bad, Khula,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“But my father… he stood up for me. He told them that you gave me permission.”
​”That’s good.” I said firmly. “I’ve dealt with my mother. They won’t bother you again. If they do, you call me immediately, you hear me? How are you? Did you eat today?”
​”I’m better now,” she said, and I could hear the faint sound of a smile in her voice. “I’m keeping busy, Khula. My mother is starting a little fast-food stall near the high school, and I’ve been helping her get everything ready. It keeps my mind off things.”
​I felt a wave of relief.
“That’s good. Helping your mother is a good thing. It’ll keep you occupied until I can bring you back home. I want you to rest, but I know you can’t sit still. Just don’t overwork yourself, okay? I’m working hard so you don’t have to struggle.”
​”I know, Khula. I’m just helping her. It’s her business, I’m just the extra pair of hands.”
​”Good. I’ll send money when I finish my shift tonight. You stay where you are. You aren’t anyone’s servant.”
​”Thank you, Khula. Please… drive safely.”
​”I will. I love you.”
​I hung up and checked the mirror.
“All right! Let’s go! Door closed!” I shouted to the passengers. As I pulled out of the rank and merged into the chaotic Joburg traffic, I felt a sense of pride. My wife was safe, she was helping her mother, and I was finally standing up as the man of the house.