THE RISE OF TUMELO
CHAPTER 11
ZIBUYILE
I was supposed to go back to South Africa a few weeks ago after my mother sent money, but I couldn’t go anymore because rumours are saying Tumelo is now worse, his reputation preceding him like a dark cloud. Kidnapping 30 to 45 people a week, the numbers haunting me, making my skin crawl with fear. I know I shouldn’t show my face when he’s this angry, but I have no choice, desperation clawing at my throat. I’m not working and it’s hard, the weight of responsibility crushing me, making it hard to breathe.
I slept with an empty stomach yesterday with my daughter, the hunger pangs keeping me awake, my mind racing with worries. “Ma, when are we going back?” she asks, her innocent question cutting deep, making me feel like a failure. I know she’s asking because she can see I’m jobless and we’re starving, her big eyes looking up at me with a mix of hope and accusation.
“Going back needs money, Vuyi,” I say, trying to keep my frustration in check, but it’s hard, it’s almost impossible. She’s getting on my nerves while I’m trying to think, her constant questions making me feel like I’m trapped, like I’m stuck.
“What were you even thinking from the start taking me here? Why didn’t you leave me with my grandparents?” she asks, her voice laced with anger, making me feel like I’m being attacked. You see? This child is growing wings, since when does she talk to me like that? The shock and hurt mixing with anger, making me defensive.
“Because you’re my responsibility, not theirs,” I say, trying to keep my tone firm, but it’s hard, it’s almost impossible. I’m not going to tell her the truth that I ran away from Tumelo, that I’m scared, that I’m lost.
“But you’re failing to provide for me as a mother!” she half shouts, her words cutting deep, making me feel like I’m a failure, like I’m not good enough. “You’ve failed as a mother we Zibuyile, we’re now stuck in Botswana because of your stupi–“ I don’t let her finish talking, my hand flying up, slapping her on her cheek, the sound echoing through the room, making us both freeze.
She stumbles back and blinks multiple times in disbelief, her eyes welling up with tears, making me feel like I’m a monster. “Don’t talk to me like you fell off a tree, I’m your mother, Yezwa?” I say, trying to keep my voice firm, but it’s shaking, betraying my emotions.
She walks out the lounge and runs to her room, the door slamming shut behind her, making me feel like I’m alone, like I’m abandoned. This stupid child, I think, trying to justify my actions, trying to calm myself down.
I turn on my phone and look at a text my neighbor just sent, the distraction a welcome respite from my thoughts. “Come over my wife is not around,” the text reads, Kgotso is my neighbor and he’s also married, a handsome light-skinned man, but I know I can be sued for being busy with a married man, but I need the money, desperation making me reckless.
I reply “Coming,” trying to sound casual, trying to pretend like everything is okay. I need to hit the shower first, perhaps he’ll give me enough money to book plain tickets, the thought a glimmer of hope, a ray of light in the darkness.
After showering I head out, good thing people know how to mind their own business in this neighborhood. I knock on the door, he opens and allows me inside. “I Missed you.” He says wrapping his arms around my waist. I giggle as he lifts me up and takes me to his bedroom.
“We have to be fast, she’ll be back in an hour.” He says through the kiss. Why didn’t he tell me from the start? I love spending time with him, being in his big arms. But it’s alright, I’m here today because I want money for plane tickets.
We both undress and he gets in between my legs, we’ve never used protection because I’m on contraceptives and his pull out game is good. He positions himself on my opening and slowly punch in. I let out a moan, God knows how much I needed this. I wrap my legs around his waist as he goes in deeper.
“Damn you’re so good.” He says sucking my neck, as I moan out his name.
He increases his pace placing both my legs on his shoulders, he lets out a loud groan and pulls out.
He lays next to me breathing heavily, he takes a towel and cleans us both. Great, before we go to the next round I have to talk to him about giving me money for plane tickets.
“Kgotso.” I’m laying on his chest, my finger circling his hairy stomach.
“Mmh.”
“Can you pay for my plane tickets?” I ask, he lifts his head looking at me in disbelief.
“Plate tickets? Where are you going?” I’m no longer on his chest because he decided to sit straight on the bed.
“I’m going back home, Kgotso. Life is hard here and my whole family is in South Africa.” I say hopefully he understands.
“You know my wife got access to my bank cards, we’re saving up to buy a car.” He says, is this man serious? I love him but I also need money.
“How is that my business Kgotso?” He’s getting me angry! “I need that money because by end of this week I must be back home!” He chuckles shaking his bed, he gets off the bed and wears his boxers.
“Don’t you dare scream at me, I said I don’t have money to buy you and your daughter plane tickets, or should I say I only have money to buy you a plane ticket but not your daughter.” He says, a snare smile forming on his face.
“What? Kgotso, I can’t leave my daughter behind. She’s 14 how is she going to survive on her own?” This man has lost his marbles today, since when is he like this?
“Zibuyile I only sleep with you and not your daughter, I can’t give her my money for free.” He says.
“What does that supposed to mean?” He’s confusing me.
“I mean, if I get a piece of her I’ll buy both of you plane tickets.” He says and I burst in laugher, he’s out of his mind there’s no way that will ever happen. I look at him thinking maybe he’s joking but he’s dead serious.
“She’s a child and 14 years old!” I half shout.
“Well then that’s on you, either we do it my way or I’m only buying you one ticket.” He says putting on his shirt.
“Get dressed and leave, my wife will be here in 10 minutes. You’ll send an SMS once you’ve made up your mind.” He says heads in the shower. Haww why would he put on his clothes knowing very well he still wants to shower.
I jump off the bed my mind all over the place, but she’s not that young, 14 isn’t that bad. Right?
–––
KGOMOTSO
I stand in the kitchen, staring at the Morvite Itu has bought for my kids to eat, my frustration simmering like a pot about to boil over. Why couldn’t she buy oats, cornflakes, or Weetbix? What’s wrong with those? Are my kids supposed to eat this nonsense? The thought of them consuming the bland, cornmeal porridge makes my stomach twist with resentment.
Just as I’m about to explode, Andile walks out of his room, stretching himself like a lazy cat, a smirk spreading across his face. He scratches his chest, his eyes squinting from the bright light, and yawns, revealing a set of perfectly straight teeth. “Look what your favorite sister bought for my kids to eat,” I say, holding up the Morvite, my voice laced with sarcasm.
He ignores my comment, instead greeting me with a casual “Morning, Kgomotso,” as he ambles towards the kitchen, his long legs eating up the distance. I forgot, for a moment, how disrespectful this idiot can be. He’s 21, and I’m 30, but he talks to me like I’m some kind of inferior being.
Andile opens the cardboard box and takes out a huge container, the sound of the lid cracking open like a slap to my face. He reveals a stash of cornflakes, the brightly colored box a cruel joke. “Who bought those cornflakes?” I ask, playing the Morvite aside, my eyes narrowing as I try to keep my temper in check.
“Itu,” he says, taking out a bowl and slamming it onto the counter, the sound making me jump. “But it’s only for me, of course.” He smiles, a sly glance in his eye, like he’s daring me to challenge him.
“No! You’re 21, and I’m pretty sure Itumeleng bought those for my kids,” I say, attempting to take the container, but he pulls it aside, his grip tight. I try to wrestle it from him, but he’s too strong, and I end up stumbling back, my heart racing with frustration.
“Your kids get a grant every month, it’s in three days,” he says, pouring milk into his bowl, the creamy liquid a stark contrast to the bland Morvite. “Boil water and mix it with that Morvite because they’re not getting my cornflakes.”
I feel like I’m going to explode, my anger simmering like a volcano about to erupt. God knows how much I want to beat his stupid face, but he’s way taller than me, and I know I’d end up on the losing end. Perhaps if I caught him off guard… I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.
“Andile, my kids are innocent, you hate me, not them,” I say, trying to appeal to whatever shred of decency he has left.
He chuckles, the sound like nails on a chalkboard, and takes a bite of his cornflakes, his eyes never leaving mine. Oh, so I’m supposed to mix Morvite with water while there’s milk? He’s out of his mind. It’s clear that I’m hated in this house, and Itu better not come back, this is all her fault. Why would she buy a 21-year-old cornflakes and not my kids?
I glance at the kids, who are staring at me with wide eyes, their faces filled with hunger and disappointment. I feel a pang of guilt, knowing I’m failing them, and my anger towards Andile intensifies.
–––
Tumelo’s face lights up with a satisfied smile as Itu sets a steaming plate of full English breakfast in front of him, the sizzle of the bacon and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air, making his stomach growl with anticipation. He’s happy she’s not angry at him for touching her yesterday, and this breakfast is proof that she’s forgiven him, or at least, she’s trying to make amends. “Thank you,” he says, his voice low and smooth, as Itu fills his glass with juice, the sound of the liquid pouring into the glass a gentle accompaniment to the morning silence.
The breakfast smells so nice, the crispy hash browns, the grilled tomatoes, and the scrambled eggs all combining to create a mouthwatering feast that makes his stomach salivate. She sits next to him and eats her breakfast, something he didn’t expect, and he finds himself watching her, admiring her beauty, the way her hair falls in soft curls down her back, the way her eyes sparkle in the morning light. Perhaps his mother was right when she said people are not the same, he thinks, as he sneaks another glance at Itu, his gaze lingering on the curve of her neck, the shape of her lips.
But Itu notices, her eyes narrowing slightly as she clears her throat, a gentle reprimand in her voice. “You’re staring too much,” she complains, her voice a soft warning, and Tumelo’s eyes snap back to his plate, a flush rising to his cheeks. He didn’t even realize he was staring, he was just admiring her beauty, wishing he could move his hands on her face, tracing the curve of her cheek, the shape of her lips.
“Tumelo, you’re making me uncomfortable,” she complains again, her voice a little softer this time, and he feels a pang of guilt, mixed with a thrill of excitement.
“Sorry,” he says again, trying to sound nonchalant as he starts eating his breakfast, but his eyes keep drifting back to her, like a magnet drawn to her presence. He takes a bite of the bacon, the crispy texture and smoky flavor exploding in his mouth, but he’s barely aware of the taste, his senses focused on Itu, the way she’s eating her breakfast, the way her eyes light up with pleasure.
God knows why he can’t keep his eyes away from her. She’s beautiful, he loves everything about her, and the way she’s looking at him now, with a mix of amusement and annoyance, makes him feel like he’s walking on thin ice. Itu gets off the high chair and heads into the lounge, her movements fluid and natural, and Tumelo’s eyes follow her, like a puppy tracking its owner, his heart beating a little faster as he watches her go.
Was he staring again? He clears his throat and stands up with his plate, following her into the lounge, his heart pounding in his chest as he sits next to her on the two-seater couch, the cushions sinking beneath his weight. Now Itu is confused, her eyes darting to him, then away, as she tries to make sense of his behavior. Why is he acting like this? It’s unlike him, he’s been following if not staring at her since they woke up, and she’s starting to feel a little uneasy, like she’s trapped in a web of his making.
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