A BRIDE FOR HIRE
PROLOGUE
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Nqobile Goqo.
I’m so fed up of following this old man, he keeps pointing me to valleys I can’t see. The sun is burning. I am annoyed and over this just as much.
“Uyazibona mzukulu? Nazi ziza.” His cane directly aimed between the hills. I still see nothing but he doesn’t seem to take heed to that part. So, I roll my shoulders back and relax against the wooden rocking bench I’m sat on and nod.
“Yes, I see them but who are they for?”
He turns towards me, and shakes his head in a way I don’t understand. Weren’t we celebrating a second ago?
My dad isn’t getting a second wife is he? Meh, I wouldn’t care actually, so long as she doesn’t practice African chemistry.
“Is it a bad thing that the cows are coming?” I ask again, more worried than annoyed this time around.
We just found our peace, for once things were lining up alongside the stars for us – well, the most of us.
“Go back now, Sobahle. Go back home, and wait.” Wait for what? I don’t want cows! I don’t want marriage and I’ve never asked for it even when praying. When we were children and we’d play house, I’d always be the rich auntie with no baby or the gold digging side chick. Nothing has changed about me, I still share the same views I had as a kid.
I want to call the man out and tell him to send the cows back if they’re coming to me – Jesus Christ! I don’t even have a boyfriend!
It’s not possible to get married if you have no boyfriend anyway. This is just a bad dream and I will get out of it.
Gradually, I slip into a haze of loud; tortuous growling like a wild animal is calling my name.
“Nqobile! Nqobile!” it chants three more times before it smacks my face with a pillow. The blow took me by such shock, somehow I flew out of bed.
“Aww!”
“You slept like a dying dog, what’s your problem? I’ve been calling you from heaven or what?” only, it wasn’t a growling animal. It was MaKhanyile, my mother.
I get off the cold and painful tiles and stretch myself, “Sanibona ma.” Somehow if I don’t greet first, even when she has already started Newsroom Africa-ring me, I’ll be the maid of honor of the red man with bull horns on his head.
“Church has already started, strangers have shaken off their demons and sang their praises for God and you, child of this house is still snoring in bed? Ingqothovu ayenzi njalo sisi, vuka!” she screams barbarically and slams my door shut afterwards.
It’s a drag getting ready and I make to take my time while doing it. Today is just one of those days where my life actually belongs to me, I can no longer view it as someone else’s, I can no longer judge myself in third person because it literally feels mine today. I’m the one who hasn’t had a stable job since the Boers owning the sugarcane fields replaced us with machines. I’m the one who hasn’t had a stable relationship since that funny looking boy nobody wanted to sit next to in Assembly back in Grade 5. I’m the failure of the family, there is nothing that I bring to the table, in fact I am the table and two of my table-legs are running loose; the other is supported by cool drink caps to stop it from sliding to all four hemispheres. But I am alive, apparently I need to be grateful for that despite me making myself so very clear to God.
My sisters are already seated in the front row, holding the perfect images of what a Goqo girl child should be. People turn their heads to me ever so slightly, some mumble while others give me a smile prior mumbling crap about me.
I sit beside Nonkanyiso, the eldest daughter. Our eyes meet and she gives me an eye roll – she’s just as fed up as I am with this service.
“Niyabona bazalwane, let me ask you something – I see you’re Identity from head to toe – Bhut’Madlisa – but I saw you arrive in your two-by-two this morning.” My dad wiggles his feet.
Nonkanyiso gasps before I could grasp what’s the reference. We both steal a glance at the boy who just got insulted. Veins form tree roots at the sides of his temples.
“Is that normal? Do you think that’s normal?” my dad stares at him for an answer. The poor guy shakes his head.
“So you know what you are doing is abnormal but you do it anyway? Can you tell that you are suffering from supercalifragilisticexpialidocious? Are you acquainted with such semantics?” he’s in his Prof moods today.
Silence fills the room. I can hear the person behind me wheeze whilst breathing.
“Welele, you don’t know what a semantics is? What if you reach heaven only to find that in order to pass through the gates, you must pass a spelling bee? Let me tell you something, ngikuhlolele nje khorekshini sikisi, your prefrontal cortex is underdeveloped that’s why you’re rich but poor. You want to see my magic? What’s 100×your salary?” oh my goodness!
All eyes turn to the young man, sweat starts to trickle even from his eyes.
“Welele, Bhut’Madlisa you don’t know what your earnings are in a span cycle of 3 and a half months? You see ukuthi ubheda kanjani? Kahle kahle, you have never made a budget wena. Every time you get paid you go out to celebrate your poverty, can you see that you are the problem? Right, eh Bazalwane Jesus be the glory. Let’s open Exodus, Exodus – E X O D U S…” it’s business as usual once again.
“Your father is brutal.” I whisper to Nonkanyiso as we skim through the bible verses being read.
“Not as brutal as those shoes. What pill was his wife on today? They are so unhinged” she sneakers.
“They were never hinged to begin with. Mntase, can we zip it now before your father gives us a read too.”
“He wouldn’t try, soon he’ll be 10 cows richer. Mr. X is finally sending lobola.” She giggles like a schoolgirl at my deep breath.
Lobola? Lobola how when they just two weeks ago? Literally, one; two. We’ve never even met this Mr. X, we don’t know what he looks like and we’ve never heard stories about him or his family.
“That’s sudden and rushed, Soso don’t you think?” I don’t need her opinion on it, I am just trying to ring the bells in her head, but again this is my sister. It’s a dark stadium in there.
“Nothing is rushed. I love him and he loves me.” She shrugs so sheepishly.
“You don’t know him.” I reiterate.
“His name is Bungobakho Ximba aka Mr. X, see I know him.” Maybe they all were hinged from the start.
I let the issue go for now and give all my attention to the Lord, it’s the only thing I can afford to give Him right now anyway. I battle giving in and praying for a job; a stable income – something – anything other than staying at home and doing nothing but being crucified for every little thing. By the end of the church sermon, I feel a lot less shitty about myself than I did this morning. There’s hope again, not that it will last.
My sisters and I usually stay behind after service to clean the place up and return the chairs to the storeroom but our lovely congregation did that for us, thank heavens. I’m exhausted. Being a Zion means having fun whilst praising and having regrets afterwards.
We chill outside for a while, drinking lemon juice and chowing guavas straight from the tree.
“I’m first in the toilet after this.” Olwemihla – the last born, says.
“As if. What you leave behind in the toilet is diabolical, I rather Nqobile goes first.” Nonkanyiso opposes.
Guavas don’t drive me to diarrhea, not like this Mr. X business does.
“Soso, marriage isn’t a small thing. You understand that right? It’s a big deal and it requires you to be willing to make irreversible sacrifices. Once that Kist of yours makes it out of this house, it’s done.” Maybe she doesn’t comprehend the severity of the loss. Soso didn’t grow up here in the villages like Olwemihla and I. She stayed with our aunt in Joburg, initially her visit was meant to last two weeks but Aunt’Patrice enjoyed the company and the free house girl so she ended up making a deal with her sister to keep Soso with her and raise her as her own. Hence ‘kini’ has turned to ‘kibo’ to her.
“Why are we talking about marriage manje?” Olwemihla stares between us.
“Nqobile is being delusional. Do you girls want to go shopping?” and yet I’m the delusional one?
“We have no money remember? You donated it all to dogs.”
“It’s a pet shelter, satan!”
I roll my eyes, “When did you adopt this spirit of sharing and kindness? You barely took a breath when street kids would bother you for 5 cents, you want me to believe you all of a sudden had a change of heart but your bank balance stayed the same?” it’s funny that I only noticed now.
But I know my sister, I know the amount of money she makes from that shopping center. All this flashy spending, that’s something she couldn’t afford, unless she has promised our souls to some Nyanga from the deep Mhlabauyalingana.
“Uthwele?”
She gasps, the piece of guava falling from her lips.
“With who? I know I ain’t me ngoba ngizokubhanqa nezindonga mfazi.” Olwemihla rants.
“I didn’t sacrifice anyone jeez, Nqobile. I know you have this ‘the world is out to get me’ core but I’d never want to take advantage of you.” Excuse her?
“What do you expect me to think, Soso? One day you arrive here with flashy bags and the latest shoes as if we weren’t scouting for sales in West St. I’m worried, as your sister, I am alarmed Soso.” And her refusing to state where this money is coming from doesn’t help the suspicion fall.
“She is kinda right, you used to wear one wig it even turned into a nest. Now you own 30 inch in two different colors?” Thank you Olwe!
“Mxm, I’m done with the both of you!” she brings herself to her feet quick, and throws the peelings of her guava at us.
“Hhayi-bo wenja!” Olwemihla.
“Do you think she is loaning this money?” maybe that’s what she’s hiding.
“I don’t know that but what I am aware of is, he won’t be chopping any of my toes to cover the debt.”
What?
It’s almost 17:00 and we haven’t touched the pots yet. Everybody is tired to be frankly honest, sikhathele!
We will have leftovers for dinner because I know I’m not cooking; Olwe is phone-kissing her boyfriend and Mrs X is out there throwing tantrums. I make my father and his buddy some tea and slice four scones; butter them up and grab a dishcloth.
“You see this, this isn’t the normal sausage that you buy. Akulona leli sausage elikalwayo lapha etilini uze uhafule futhi uzama ukucisha u39 cents eskalini. This is top quality wors.” He explains to his friend.
Poor Shenge, he has to seem impressed by sausages now.
“Baba, some tea and scones.” I place the tray on the table and hand my father the dishcloth first then, his friend afterwards.
“MaKhanyile did well with your daughters, Sobahle. They are befitting future daughter in-laws.” I rebuke that evil spirit that associates me with marriage!
“Yeah, some are.” His response is classic.
I was waiting for it, I always tell myself that it doesn’t surprise me anymore and yet my mind still zaps after hearing such things.
“I think Nqobile …”
“Have you heard who my daughter is getting married to in the next weekend? She will be joining the Ximba household soon.” My dad chuckles.
His friend is still wiping his hands, I don’t wait, my fingers have snatched it back. My two little legs carry me as fast as lightning to the kitchen.
I dread what I find in the kitchen!
My mom is going around in circles of craze, opening cupboards and drawers looking for something.
“Yes my son, uh… she is coming. Nonkanyiso, Nonkanyiso your husband is calling.” She isn’t even calling her out loud and why is her head moving all over the show?
I turn around, throwing a look behind me. There is no one there. I peak at the passage, no sign of Nonkanyiso.
“Here she is, my son. Please hold a minute.” She giggles.
Did she get high from her husband’s prayer today? Where is Nonkanyiso here …whoa!
“Speak to him, pretend to be your sister. It shouldn’t be hard for you anyway.” She’s thrusting the phone into my hands.
“Are you out of your mind? No!” I whisper-scold back and push the device back.
“Nqobile, don’t annoy me sisi. Take the bloody phone and answer.” Her eyes darken.
I gulp and answer the call in a quivering breath, “He…hello.” What is his name even!?
“Sound sexy, sound like Soso.” My mom nibbles against my ear.
Ugh!
“Mr…Mr X.” I don’t even know if that’s what she calls him!
“What?” – one of the coldest ‘whats’ I’ve ever heard in my life.
Both my hands grip on the cell now, “X for Ximba.” I rattle before I could make sense of what I just said.
The deep sigh on the other end of the call punctures my batteries.
“Whatever. Have you received the R30 000?” what!?
“The R30 000!?”
My mom makes a face. Right, ‘sound sexy’.
“That was the deal, what’s with the opera performance now? Have you received it? Reason I am asking is because Mandy made the payment, I don’t trust her with money.”
Who is Mandy and why is she making his payments?
“Yeah, yeah I received it.”
“Okay. How are the preparations going? My uncles will arrive very early tomorrow morning so try to wake up at an appropriate time please.” Mmaye!
I cover my mouth and nod then drop the call.
Phewww!
“What did he say? Stop reciting labor pains and tell me what he said.” She barks down my neck.
I need a glass of water. No, in fact I need the whole Nile!
“Did your daughter tell you she is getting lobolad tomorrow morning? As in kroo kroo, early as the rooster on tomorrow’s duty.” Why would she hide this from us?
“Did he say that?” mom opens her eyes wide.
I nod.
“Lililili! Kwakuhle kwethu!”
I’m sorry? Am I the only one without a receptive brain cell?
“Ma, how are you celebrating this? This is a chaos, it’s a disaster!”
“Stop being jealous for once, Nqobile and be happy for your sister. She is getting married.” I rest my guns!
I let her stroll around the entire house ululating and singing at the very top of her lungs. What will these people even eat? Simple stew and rice?
The phone vibrates on the countertop and for a minute I think it’s a bank notification or something. As to why this girl left her phone behind, I’ll never understand.
It’s an SMS from an unknown number. I open just because.
~ Mama, I can’t do it. I can’t do it mama. My heart belongs to someone else, I can’t give it to Bungobakho mama I cant. I’m sorry but this whole arrangement is off!
So help me God!
∆∆∆
A BRIDE FOR HIRE
CHAPTER ONE
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Nqobile
They shiver in their seats like they’re sitting on wet diapers. My mom hasn’t stopped chewing her nails and calling out her husband every two minutes. If ever this man needed to revive the Bushili in him, this would be the most convenient time for such miracles.
“What are you going to do? It’s only a few hours till you have men lined up outside your gate waiting to ask your daughter’s hand in marriage.” I pole the hot air balloon first, still careful not to rile anyone up.
My father flares his nostrils as he throws a wave as if that isn’t of any concern right now.
“Baba, we are going to die. Oh King of Nazareth, save us from the devil’s den!” it’s only now that she’s realizing the devil in his own house? All of this didn’t ring a bell when they were striking deals with dangerous people?
“We will all die, Baba. I’m too young, you can’t let me die.”
My manners slip. The joke couldn’t pass me.
This woman is well into her late fifties, even when she’s got gas she starts panicking thinking it’s a heart attack coming to collect her.
“Do something, Sobahle, will you just sit there and marinade in silence? This was your fault to begin with.” MaKhanyile rasps, the accusation more angry.
Her husband snaps, gets up from the couch, “Unganginyeli mina uyangizwa? Where was I when you and your daughter were combining your deficient parietal lobes on such ludacris schemes. This is your mess!”
“Ah Baba!” her fingers clasp her pearls.
Next minute MaKhanyile is sprawled on the carpet with her hands pressed on her chest, heavily breathing and gasping.
Her lover looks at her pissed.
“Get your big behind off the carpet, no one is wheeling you to the clinic. You should have taken the money from your gallivanting daughter before fainting.” They were really about to ship Soso off for R30 000?
“Am I in heaven? God is that You?” her dramatics continue.
“How much did this man pay you? What even happened mama?” I’m still in the dark here, either than the fact that I’ll be orphaned by tomorrow noon, I know nothing. And if ever God has taken the seat back on that matter, may my mother go first – I know I can trust sis to come back and fetch her husband.
“R50 000, he offered that for preparations for the lobola. The rest was going to come from the lobola paid.” My father all of a sudden can’t use his authoritative voice. Squeaking won’t erase this mess!
“You guys are unbelievable!” I wash my hands.
“Where did you think this fancy food was coming from? The new curtains in this house, the new bed sheets and the cooking microwave.” Now she can get up?
“The good thing is I never asked for any of those things mama. Soso played y’all do you see that? She’s out there now chowing the money whilst you are here stressing over your life covers.”
“We must do something, my sugar. We need to do something before it’s too late. I think we should pray as well.” Oh please, like that could change their fate!
“If you can shut up for three minutes and let me think maybe I might find a solution.” Baba says.
His wife dribbles her eyes around and sends herself back on the couch.
“Ntombi yami, MaMwelase omhlophe. I need you.”
Is he –
Hehe, very funny!
They don’t laugh with me, “Did you miss the joke?” I frown at my mom.
“Nqobile.” Mom sighs, and takes my hands onto her lap.
“Where would I ever get such money? I depend on Ramaphosa remember?”
“My child there was a reason why God wanted me to name you Nqobile. He knew you were going to be a conqueror, He knew that there was no circumstance you wouldn’t be able to defeat so long as you look to Him for answers.” He’s serious?
My father goes on his knees, for the first time since he got baptized my father is on his knees. My trembling hands shiver further in his hold, tears start to block my vision of him.
I can’t see whether he’s putting any emotional effort to this act or if I’m being dribbled as I always am.
“Baba you can’t do that to me. You can’t ask that of me, Dubandlela.” I break into a cackle, it’s still a joke to me to be honest. My parents could never ask this of me, they simply could never.
“He will provide, Nqobile. God will provide you just need to put your faith in His grace and pray ndodakazi yami.” The nerve to sell me hope and faith while preparing to throw me under the bus is sickening!
I snatch back my hands and sweep the salty liquid off my cheeks.
“You want to sell me to a stranger, Baba? You want to sell your daughter to a random man you’ve never met in your life? I’m just 26 years of age Dubandlela, what the fuck!” I thought I was going to have grace in my decline but I checked the room and found none.
So I guess it’s insult to insult now.
“That’s your father, Nqobile.” My mom jumps to her man’s rescue.
“No he is not! If he can sell me like this then he can’t possibly be a father of mine. No father would sell their daughter in these times, women are being killed everyday, do you two realize this?”
“He won’t hurt you, Nqobile man!” Mom rasps.
“O, did he promise you that? Was there an oath taken without my knowledge to confirm such?” these two are so damn evil and selfish! My mom knows how deeply I loathe marriage, it’s a decorated cage and they are willingly ready to throw me inside for 5 R10 000?
Baba brings himself back to his feet, and cockily shifts his hands into his pockets.
There’s a hint he’s giving me the with his eyes, a stare that coils my insides.
This man, this man used to fling me in the air every morning because I used to have an obsession with flying. He’d slip lollipops in my bag because I’d always steal R2s in my mom’s bag to buy them. He knows how terrified I am of thunder, so he’d always lay me on his chest and cover my head with a towel until it’s over.
No matter how far our relationship has drifted but he can’t be that far gone not to see the unfairness of this request.
“Baba please, Mama I’m begging you don’t force me into this.” I’d grovel all night if needs be!
“Nqobile, stop it.” My mom scolds softly.
“Hhayi, let her be shukela wami. If it isn’t her then it will have to be Olwemihla. Go call her for me.”
My eyes leap out.
“What!”
“Sobahle, Olwemihla is a child. You can’t do that to her.” MaKhanyile shoots up.
“Do you have a better plan?”
Nothing.
“Exactly, so go fetch Olwemihla and quit being a nyaff about it!” he’s talking to her with his eyes piercing my skull though.
He’s coming for my baby sister on purpose, huh? Smh!
How is this the end of the life I wanted for myself? From tomorrow I’m just going to be someone’s doormat? A convenience of his. My dreams; goals and desires – all pointless now. The only objective I’m about to have in life now is mothering babies – grown and unborn.
“I hate you!” I shove them out of my way.
“Hawe ma, Nqobile uyasishaya!?”
The Nqobile living in my heart wanted to do far more damage than just push them out the way. I wanted to give them a slap across the face for a total recall!
I want to scream, scream my loudest then cry. But even then it wouldn’t matter. Somehow, my grief is always silent, no matter the volume of the cry.
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I wake up to eggs stench under my nose. My eyes open before I’ve adjusted to fully being awake, light stabs my eyes quick.
“Yho, what is wrong now?” I shift the plate from my face and turn the other way.
“Nqobile, I’m trying here. I made you breakfast in bed.” MaKhanyile rolls me over and shoves the plate on my face once more.
“Ma, I don’t want your eggs and beans please!”
“My baby why are you fighting me? Trust me you will thank your father and I in the future, marriage doesn’t come easy nowadays hence why you must respect yours. Iba inqothovu yomfazi, don’t allow your attitude to ruin what could be a good thing.” Even if this world was coming to an end, my mother is the last woman I’m taking advise from.
“Can I sleep now?”
“Mxm, vuka! Wake up and go to MaKunene and tell her she can bring the package.” That performance ended rather quickly.
“What package, MaKhanyile?”
“Don’t call me MaKhanyile, I’m not married to you. MaKunene knows what we spoke about over the phone, all you must do is pass the message I am telling you Nqobile.”
I lift off my pillow for a minute and stare at her, slightly frowning. Does she hear what she’s saying?
“Do you need airtime?”
“No, I need my child that I gave birth to and left me with stitches on my belly, to get her lazy behind up and go tell MaKunene what I said.” She’s shouting right into my ear. I don’t even fight her when my cover goes flying across the room.
“Akube ophaqa nezikhindi ke-sisi, make it snappy because the pots must be on the stove soon.”
Nonkanyiso will never see the direction to heaven!
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I wasn’t expecting to cry about this whole situation, and yet here I am still mopping my face with my scarf.
“Don’t think too much about it mfazi, I’m sure you will figure something out. How to get away from this arrangement.” Olwemihla hands me a new tissue and carries on brushing my back.
“Why did this have to happen to me, Olwe? Why me!” my head feels like it’s been directly under the sun for hours with the way it’s aching.
“It would have been me if it wasn’t you.” She doesn’t have brakes!
“Olwemihla, what’s your problem?” Zinhle, my best friend shakes her head.
“Mngani, what if he treats you well? I mean you know how Nonka is, she wouldn’t go for a loser.” Zinhle sighs.
Why would she run if there was nothing to run away from?
“Did you try calling her again today?” Olwemihla asks.
“Throughout the day all I have been doing is calling. It goes to voicemail.”
“Yinja nje uNonkanyiso, why did she flee with the money?” Khethi, my neighbor clicks her tongue afterwards.
“Why did she flee at all? Angithi she is the one who wanted this nonsense? Mrs X, Mrs X ukunuka!” I feel like combusting!
“Mr who?” Zinhle frowns.
“Sikhulekile ekhaya koGoqo, Ndaba.
Mwelase ongaweli ngazibuko, owela ngezimpambosi zomfula…”
The girls scream behind me, it’s the fright. Not excitement.
We all rushed to peek through the curtains. It’s an entire freaking village outside the gate!
There are four grown up men, and two younger looking men. All dressed to the nines like this is a special occasion for the books.
“Mfazi, look at that silver fox in navy.” Khethi moans behind my ear.
“Get a grip on your hormones for once, lady.” Olwemihla.
“They don’t look harmful, Nqobile. Maybe this marriage won’t be so bad after all.”
I don’t care whether they look like teddy bears or something out of a horror film, I still don’t want this stupid thing to take place.
I return to my bed and continue clipping my cuticles. What’s the worst that can happen? Assault? Abuse? Murder? – maybe I should stop thinking for a while.
“Your father’s friend just let them in, the whole train of em.” Why did Khethi bother herself by coming if all she’d be doing is adding fuel to the fire?
I’m actually starting to struggle to breathe, my hands shake no matter how hard I grip them with my sweaty palms.
“What if he hits me? That family is full of males, what if I can never escape Bafazi?” my breathes hitch one after the other.
Olwe pats my back gently, “Don’t think like that, wena just be positive.”
“In any case, ngeke uhlulwe indoda edla ebhodweni lakho, you can never suffer in the hands of a man who eats food you prepare. Wena, you’ll just give us word when you are tired and we will prepare the mixture.” Zinhle is the only sane bone in this group.
She’s right, our grandmothers used to say the same thing and surprisingly, her granny has had four deceased husbands and one currently on a wheelchair.
“It hasn’t even been day one and you’re already teaching her witchcraft?” Olwemihla is still blinded by those bible verses, she doesn’t understand the works of the life we live in as women.
We’ve lost track of time, these negotiations are taking abit longer than what we are used to. There has been some ululating here and there, only for a short while then it’s back to silence.
Mr X has been calling and each time I’ve let the phone ring until it cuts itself. I’m just not in the mood! I’ve cried three times already.
A knock disturbs our mourning silence, “Girls, get ready to come out.” That’s MaKhanyile sounding R50 000 richer.
“Yes mama!” Olwe responds.
“Don’t stress yourself about this, Nqo oe. And most importantly don’t faint lapha.” Zinhle gives me a soothing hug then hands me my blanket. We all cover ourselves and walk out the room. My mom leads us to the room outside where the negotiations are being held.
“Behave ke inside there, Nqobile.” She scolds me.
I quickly wipe my face with the collar of my pinafore. Snot smears all over me and that alone sets me into tears.
Does this guy even know he’s not marrying Soso anymore?
What if he doesn’t like how I look? Or my vibe sets him off first hand? Why did my parents do this to me!?
“Watch your step girls.” Mom cautions.
And for once I’m tempted to embarrass myself, maybe that will get me out of this. Or not, it might just leave me embarrassed and still married.
I feel hands grip my shoulders and direct me around, next thing I’m being pushed lower onto my knees.
“Ya boMsuthu. These are my flowers, so which one exactly are you here to pluck from my garden?” these words have never sat right within me.
I sit still under my blanket my lungs even forget how to draw in oxygen. This is scary, I am petrified right now. All that’s running through my mind is – what if he hurts me, what if he doesn’t treat me right? I don’t have a job so running away would be difficult. My family doesn’t honestly care for me enough to go through the hassle for me. So what would I do? Lie still and take the L? That’s it?
“We think this is her.” Such a deep voice!
I don’t like deep voices!
“You in the middle, lift your blanket.” Middle? Am I in the middle? But I walked in first, it can’t be me.
There’s a disappointed sigh in the room as my father cackles about it, probably because the money he’s about to receive for this error tickles his loins.
“Nizohlawula-ke Msuthu. Your bride is this one.” I know he’s pointing to me.
“Mmmh, how much would that fine be Mwelase?” another deep voice, do men of this family ever speak like normal people?
“Because it’s you, I will make it half …”
“You want to give us our daughter in-law in discounts? Is this a vegetable sale to you Mwelase?”
Oh no.
“No, no Msuthu not at all. MaKhanyile, take the girls back to the room.” Why now? I still wanted to hear what stuttering he was going to do. This pretentious moron!
We waited another hour before my mom and her friends joined us in the room for the speeches. We’re on rule number 259 and I still care less about being here.
“Your husband is your life, Nqobile do you hear that? You’ll cater to his every demand, and never question his authority.” That’s cheap coming from someone who blasts her husband each time he says what goes against her beliefs or wants.
“They say a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, make sure he always eats food you cook. Even if he wakes you up at 3 AM because he is craving ujeqe you must wake up and make it mfazi.” MaKunene says.
“Now that’s bull…”
I pinch Olwe before she could finish her word.
“As time goes on you will love him, MaSobahle trust us. We also married men we didn’t know, look where we are today? Happy and in love.”
That’s a white lie, MaKunene literally burnt her husband with hot oil two weeks ago for cheating. I just want this Ted talk to be done with.
Nothing they say is what my ears want to hear. I’m the hired bride, whether they’re sorry for it or not, my fate has been sealed. Why does this man need to hire someone to pose as his wife anyway? He’s rich, even if he’s bad looking, women tend to overlook such minor defects if the bank account can compensate. So why all this trouble?
“Okay, come. Your father and father in-law have made an arrangement, you will be living with your future husband.”
My legs bring me up immediately, “What!? No, no, no MaKhanyile. I’m not leaving with them, not today. He’s just a fiancée isn’t he?” I’m not a Makoti yet!
“You don’t have any say in this, Nqobile. You are a child, remember that.” I’m only ever a child when it’s convenient to her or her husband.
“But mama why does she have to go today? What’s the rush?” Olwemihla shrugs.
“You won’t understand. Don’t worry about your clothes, we will bring them for you.”
“Ma please don’t do this to me, just give me one more day please. Just one more day.” I’m scared.
“Delaying won’t change the outcome, you still must leave in the end. Just do it Nqobile, you won’t regret this trust me.”
I hate her!
I hate her husband. And I mostly hate Soso!
How could they do this to me!?
She rests her hand on my shoulder, and I flake it off. Nxa!
“Come, we must go.”
MaKhanyile is dragging an empty vessel, I don’t feel alive in this moment. My heart is raging beastly in my chest and my eyes burn despite there being no tears falling.
They’re ululating outside, cows moo like they don’t want to be here just as much I don’t. My father is laughing at the top of his lungs, complimenting his fat cows.
“Go kneel in front of your in-laws.” MaKhanyile whispers in my ear.
My eyes water. They are so tall, all of them.
I wouldn’t have a chance of escaping if they ever hurt me, tall people stride quicker. They’d catch me fast.
I can’t even greet, my tongue is tied. Khethi’s silver fox greets me first, I don’t hear a thing, my ears keep tingling.
“Hhayi Nqobile!” – are the last words I hear before dropping on the ground.
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