married-world-blog

[married-world-blog]

Untitled

I woke up in a hospital bed. There whispers around me were not low enough. I’m told that I’ve been opening my eyes but not responding to anything for the past two days.

And today I’ve submitted my first response: tears.

I had been in an actual relationship with Ikaneng for about 3 months. He was even talking marriage. It had nothing to do with how good I gave him the cookie because truthfully speaking, I was an amateur. I believed he meant it when he told me that he loved me.

I went overseas for the first time when he took me to Dubai for my birthday. Nathi wouldn’t stop calling or randomly showing up at my flat. My cute A-Class Benz was repossessed because Nathi stopped paying for it.

“De koloi tsa de koloto” Ikaneng had commented. “It was never yours to begin with”, he kept saying. “It was never even his” he reminded me.

Then he bought me a Porsche Panamera cash to prove a point.

I missed rent a couple of times so I got kicked out of my flat. Instead of going back home, Ikaneng offered for me to stay with him.

This arrangement changed everything.

Ikaneng would hit me and say sorry, then have some justification for that.

One day, he slammed my wrist into a door and closed the door on it because I met up with Nathi to discuss our divorce. His justification was that I should let the lawyers deal with Nathi. I must stop meeting up with him. After telling me that nonsense, he took me to the hospital himself.

To my misery, PayPay is the nurse who attended to me. She was very professional shame, I will not lie. Except, she told Nathi about that accident.

I went home for a while because I needed space. Nathi would come over to see me and then he moved back to KZN permanently. He opened a cute nyana practice in Eshowe and I’d visit him from time to time. He was the one who mostly came to Ladysmith to see me.

Last week, Ikaneng came to Ladysmith to apparently fetch me. I told him I’d come back once my divorce was done. At the mention of Nathi, I was on my mother’s white kitchen tile due to the power of his fist. He didnt stop there, he kicked me, and kept beating me up. At some point, I realised that I was going to have to submit to my cross. The more you resist the nails being hit into your body in order for you to hang on your cross, the more painful the process will be. I had to stop resisting the beatings and become completely numb to his beatings in order to them through.

When he was done beating me up, he had sex with me in a pool of my own blood. And then he left me there.

Luckily that day, Nathi was coming over for lunch. My parents were out of the country. Nathi found me in my mom’s kitchen, on her white tile, naked, in a pool of my own blood.

All I remember was that I was feelibg so cold. I couldn’t move and my speech could not comprehend what happened.

…

I see Nathi in the room and I’m comforted.

“May we please have the room”, Dr Buthelezi my husband requests.

My family and his are more than happy to leave us alone together.

“He has been arrested”, Nathi tells me.

I’m unresponsive, I’m just crying.

Honeatly, I don’t know how to feel.

“Luckily, you didnt miscarry”, he continues.

Miscarry? I’m pregnant?

This hurts Nathi more than it shocks me.

He cries with me.

I have really messed up.

After our cry, Nathi hands me an envelope and says, “I’ve signed the divorce papers you had me served. I will be out of your life as per your wish”.

I honestly don’t even know what to say.

I just look at him and cry.

“I’ll keep you here for two more days and then when I’m certain that you and the baby are okay, I’ll discharge you”, he concludes.

He leaves.

Two days pass by and I still haven’t signed the divorce papers. I’m packing my bags and preparing to leave when Obusitse and Lefatse walk in. I feel scared but I’m also curious.

“We really sorry he did this to you”, Obusitse.

I just look at them.

“How are you feeling?” Lefatse asks me.

I nod my head but not say anything.

“We thought we would come and see how you are doing. Take care of yourself okay?” Obusitse.

“How is he?” I ask. I don’t know why I care but i do.

“He is in a coma. He was stabbed last night inside his cell. They don’t know if he will make it”, Obusitse tells me. He and Lefatse are really down and out.

“Tell him that he has to pull through to meet his child. Tell him I’m pregnant” I say with tears forming at my eyes.

Lefatse’s eyes almost pop out of their socket.

Obusitse is shocked too but he hugs me and tells me that everything is going to be okay. Lord knows how much I need everything to be okay.

“Ready to go?” Nkosinathi offered to take me home so here he is to take me home.

He doesn’t even acknowledge Obusitse and Lefatse. He just grabs my bags and I follow him out.

The drive is awkwardly quiet. I look out the window and he just drives.

“Are you going to keep that baby?” He asks me. I think he has been dying to ask me.

“I don’t know”, I say.

“Do you want to?” Him.

“Angazi Nkosinathi. Le ngane ayina cala. Inobaba nje onesandla”, I snap.

He is quiet.

“Sorry” me.

Silence.

“How is your health? Have you started your ARVs yet?” I ask.

He looks at me as if he wants to tell me to mind my own business.

So I do…

There is silence in the car…

And blood.

“Igazi”, I say in panic.

“Huh?” Him.

“Igazi Nkosinathi, I’m bleeding” i panic. He stops the car.

I am hysterical. I am then overcome with unbearable cramps. Nkosinathi tries to comfort me but he is not making it any better for me.

“Nkosinathi ngisize, ngiyakucela”, I’m screaming and I’m in tears now.

He just holds me in his arms and says “ayisekho ingane”.

In the midst of all of that…

A white Ford Ranger crashed into us…

….

[married-world-blog]

After PayPay’s announcement, the entire room is unbelievably silent. You can hear a pin drop. I am looking at Nkosinathi to handle this situation but that turns out to be an incredibly difficult task for him.

“Satane! Phuma la! Voetsek!” Mrs Buthelezi Senior attacks PayPay. She jumped from her seat to PayPay in a split second. Her husband has now assumed the position of his son: silent with his head in the palm of his hands.

“Hai bo mother-in-law, yini inkinga yakho?” Patience genuinely confused. I think she expected resistance but she definitely did not expect to be called the devil.

“Ubolile nondindwa ndini. Ufuze unyoko! Phuma la!” Mrs B.

I think the Buthelezi family knows something we all don’t know here.

“Nkosinathi, are you going to let this old hag talk to me like she has just been vomited out of a zoo?” PayPay. Yho guys, I want this girl’s balls.

“Mkhwenyana, this is what you disrespected my daughter with?! You took my daughter from esibayeni sakwaMageba to subject her to disrespect of this calibre?” My father says, genuinely disgusted.

“Nkosinathhi open your damn mouth and say something”, PayPay.

“Mommy, hit him. He only understands when you hit him”, Unathi adds her little two cents.

Hai cha, umhlolo kaZulu phela lo. Ithini le ngane?

Nkosinathi stands up and attempts to walk out. PayPay shoves him back in the house and he falls in between his parents. Nkosinathi’s mother loses her mind, goes from zero to 100 in a split second. She beats PayPay up like a real bull-fighter on the streets of Esinqawuqawini. Nkosinathi pulls his mother off his fiancé and the mother is breathing heavily. Her eyes show tell us that she wants to see PayPay bleed, paying for a sin only she knows about.

“Nkosinathi, khuza unyoko!” PayPay doesn’t back down neither. She rises from the ground and charges towards Mrs B.

Nkosinathi lets go of his mother and then shoves PayPay out of the house. He shuts the door, shutting PayPay and Unathi outside. Then he yells at his mother (because he is bewitched like that) saying, “mama yini ngawe?! Since when are you Baby Jakes?!”

“Ungazongijwayela kabi wena slima ndini. Sikutholela inkosikazi enengqondo wena ulanda i-last number yesifebe!” Mrs B yells.

“Come say that to my face you old bitch!” PayPay yells through the door while banging on it.

“Patience, awuthule man nawe. Jeez!” Nathi yells back at PayPay through the door.

My house has officially turned into umuzi wotshwala. I don’t know how to translate that into English.

“Nkosinathi Buthelezi, le nto odelela inkosikazi yakho yasebukhosini ngayo, beyilala nobaba wakho. Le ngane ayigudula yonke indawo ingane kababa wakho; that child is your sister. That is the kind of woman you are dealing with”, Mrs B says with tears in her eyes, and then walks off into one of the bedrooms in the house.

My mom is three minutes away from being on her knees and praying for the Holy Spirit to intervene. Mr B walks after his wife but we hear a door shutting in his face. The TV room is silent. To say that Nkosinathi is broken would be the understatement of the year. I don’t know if he will ever recover from this.

“Thandeka, thatha okwakho ngane yami. Siyahamba. Sidelelwe impela abakwaButhelezi. Ngizabe ngingeyena ubaba oqotho kuwena uma ngikushiya lana nabo la bantu. Asambe!” My father demands.

I hurry to me bedroom. I don’t have much to pack anyway because most of my stuff are in KZN. I pack what I can. I see my phone has a few whatsapp messages. It is Ikaneng checking up on me. I tell him that a family emergency has come up and I have to go back to KZN with my parents. He tells me that he will let Zelda know. Shooo, thank you Jesus. That one would have ate me up and spat me out.

“Ngicela ungahambi”, a voice creeps up on me. I turn around. It is Nkosinathi.

“Kumele ngihambe Nkosinathi. Ubaba usekhulumile”, I tell him.

“Ngizohlawula, khona manje”, he says.

“Umndeni wami is not for sale. You don’t just throw money at us and then my parents sell me to you. Who do you think you are? What do you take us for?” I tell him.

He is silent. He nods his head and then leaves the bedroom.

I take my bags and meet my parents in the TV room. I tell them I will drive in my car behind them. My dad insists that he will drive with me, my mother will drive back with our family driver. I do not hesitate.

When we step out, we see PayPay still standing outside of our door.

“Uphi uNkosinathi?” she asks me, giving me heavy attitude.

“Ungazongijwayela kabi wena”, me. I have strength now, my parents are here. Also, Mrs B is on my side because she has walked in my shoes before because of this unstable heffer.

“Uthini?!” PayPay out here trying to scare me with tears in her eyes and desperation of trying to ensure that she still has a man in Nathi.

“Ngithi ungazongijwayela kabi. You have done enough damage to this family. Go find your next victims”, I tell her.

“Mxm, ngizodelelwa yinto nje ayingasho lutho kimi nakuNathi. Awusuke endleleni yami”, she says as she pushes me out of the way.

“Don’t talk to my wife like that”, Nkosinathi comes to my rescue for the very first time.

“I am your fiancé Nkosinathi”, PayPay still trying to beg for a position in Nathi’s life.

“Not anymore. We are done. I don’t ever want to see you again”, Nkosinathi tells her.

“Nkosinathi”, PayPay tries to plead her case.

“Please leave”, Nkosinathi becomes even colder.

PayPay cries, he looks at Nathi in disbelief.

“Before everyone leaves…” Mrs B walks in and commands our attention.

“Nkosinathi, this woman is a prostitute. I am not sure if you are aware of that. She gave your father HIV. If you had unprotected sex with her and then also slept with umakoti, I strongly suggest that you both get tested”, Mrs B drops that bomb on us, face full of tears still, and then walks away.

“Baby…” PayPay trying to explain.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Nkosinathi yells this time.

I start crying. I am genuinely sad for him. Now I suddenly want to stay and be here for him.

“Asambe ngane yami”, my dad interferes with that intention.

We, oMageba, leave.

…

It took me the entire trip to explain to my father that I need to go to Durban and not eMnambithi (back home). It took me an hour after arriving in Durban to explain to my parents that they cannot sleep at my flat because it is a one-bedroom flat. They finally left and now I am by myself in my own space, trying to understand the intersections episode that has taken place between my husband, my father-in-law, and PayPay.

I call Ikaneng.

He picks up after two rings.

“Hello beautiful”, him.

“Hey”, me.

“What’s wrong?” him.

“It’s been a long day”, I say.

“I have been invited to a gala dinner tonight. How about you come out with me and we talk about it after we have drank the night away”, he suggests.

I giggle and say “sure”.

“I was hoping you would say that. I will pick you up in two hours”, him.

We hang up.

I start off by plaiting my own hair into simple cornrows so that I can throw on one of my wigs; yes, I do the wig life too.

I shower and get ready. The only nice “gala” like dress I have is black. I suppose one can never go wrong with black. I dress up, apply my make-up with the assistance of the YouTube make-up professionals, and I put on my wig. I am ready.

Ikaneng arrives just on time.

“You look incredible”, he tells me.

He looks delicious too. Let the truth be preached.

We go out, bump into senior management colleagues who are now side-eyeing me. Zelda was the sourest towards me. I guess I should have known that this would be coming out party for us.

I dont even remember what the gala event was all about. The only thing vivid in my mind is the hostile treatment I received and the careless whispers about me every corner I turned.

“You alright?” Ikaneng asks me as he notices that I’m not okay anymore.

“I think coming here was a mistake. I need to go”, I tell him, looking around and realising that I’m still being side-eyed. He follows my eyes and sees it too, except this time, when people see him look at them, they smile and look away.

“Let’s go. I’ll deal with this tomorrow”, him.

We leave the gala dinner and head to his house in Ballito. It’s a beautiful house. It’s twice as big as my flat with Nathi in Paulshoff.

It’s also one of those houses where you can tell that you are not the first woman to come in here. I can see it be a party house. But I also see it as a “loft” from that “the loft” movie. Girls chill here, dance here, sleep here, etc. As for men… this is Vegas for them.

“Drink?” He offers me a glass of wine.

I smile.

I accept the drink and we chill in the TV room and engage in a DMC.

“I don’t think anything outside of a professional relationship will work between us. The entire senior management team was on not too accepting of seeing us together tonight”, I express.

“Don’t worry about them. Let me be the one to deal with that. I want you to relax now. Please”, him.

After a few drinks, we make our way upstairs to his main bedroom. We make out and this time, I actually want to have sex with him. I’ll probably never have sex with Nathi and I don’t want to die a virgin.

“Make love to me”, I tell him.

He looks me, unsure of what to say.

“Are you sure?” He asks me.

I nod my head.

He lifts me off the ground and kisses me against a wall. My legs are wrapped around his waist as he keeps twirling me around the room, making my body connect with all sides and corners of the walls of this bedroom.

He is so hard. I can just tell that there is no turning back now.

I’m on the bed now. He is on top of me.

“Are you sure?” He asks me one more time.

“I’m sure.” I confirm.

He makes his way inside of me. It hurts a bit. But it’s not an excruciating kind of pain. My body flinches though.

He takes it easy. He is gentle. Eventually, my body curves at his penis and we are both comfortable. This is everything I thought it would be… from the movement, to the feeling, to our connection…

I have no regrets.

I feel him reach his happy ending.

I am happy.

I’m finally a woman.

I couldn’t have chosen a better man to share such a sacred part of me with.

We both passed out.

…

We are woken up by our cellphones vibrating out of control.

I have missed calls from my parents and Nkosinathi. He has missed calls from his brothers and Zelda. I also have a missed call from Zelda.

“Good morning”, him.

“Hey”, I say smiling.

We smile at each other.

“How are you feeling?” He asks me.

I giggle.

“Great”, I say.

We kiss.

“Ready for round 2?” Him.

I laugh.

“The whole world is trying to get hold of us. Can we at least find out why”, me.

“Fine”, he sulks a bit.

I laugh at him.

We take a shower together. I dress up in one of his tracksuits; baggy but I can work with it.

We go downstairs and find his brothers there.

“Ike, we have a problem”, Obusitse.

“I’ll give you guys some space”, I say.

“Good morning Thandeka. Sorry to disturb you guys so early in the morning. Its lovely to see you though”, Obusitse.

I smile.

I attempt to leave but Ikaneng holds my hand.

“What’s going on?” Ikaneng asks.

Obusitse gives us a newspaper.

[married-world-blog]

Torn

I get to the Saxon Hotel and all I can say is… OMG.

I am given my room card-key and I head up as per our discussion. I text Ikaneng to let him know that I am at the hotel. I put my phone and silent and take a quick shower to get out of my work clothes and make-up. I get dressed into a Puma tracksuit. I have my natural relaxed hair out so I just tie up in a bun.

I check my phone.

I see a text from Ikaneng telling me that he has landed in Joburg so he is on an uber to the hotel.

I also see a text from Nkosinathi telling me how much of a brat I am and that the family is disappointed that I am not home to receive them. I just ignore the message.

I read My Worth Crowned You while I wait for Ikaneng.

Guys, can we please have a moment of reflection and break from my drama for Reahile Mohale: Lord have mercy. I worry about Kea though. Sometimes, when you go through too much, the good stuff start to feel uncomfortable. It is as if you were built for pain therefore, it is not painful, then it is not for you. Then there is Reahile Mohale… a mind, a heart, and a whole bag of the man we want. We are told that if something is for us then it will not miss us. But the patience of the time element favours those who choose happiness even in the face of pain. I am definitely team Reahile. Those of you who are reading the book, what are your thoughts and whose t-shirt are you wearing? Team Reahile? Or Team Mohato?

The door clicks. There is a slight knock on the door and then Ikaneng pushes the door open. He walks in with his travelling bag pulled in behind him, and dressed in joggers and a sweater. He looks nice. I smile. He smiles.

I get up from the bed to welcome him and he hugs me. I like his hug. I like how he smells. I feel good being here and I am prepared for the wrath of my family tomorrow now that I am here with Ikaneng.

“My Worth Crowned You?” He notices the book in my hand.

“It is my current read and my current obsession”, I inform him.

“Okay, I will bite. What is it about?” he asks as he settles down and we both end up chilling on the bed, him lying down on his back, and me sitting with my legs crossed next to him.

“Well, on a broader context, it is a novel that locates the new black middle class individual in his/her ‘belonging’ in 2018’s society; somewhere between modernity, western education, and black culture. We follow Kea’s journey through her eyes; she is the one telling her own story. . She is an ordinary young woman who was born and raised in fictional Tholoana Kingdom. Tholoana Kingdom is rich with culture, locates culture above all else, and centres its entire existence on culture. It is a country that is under the rule of King Mohato Mohale – Kearabetswe’s husband.” I tell him.

“Do you feel that you relate to it because you are also married to royalty?” he asks me,

“Not really. Kea is well-educated, I am not. Kea has options, a strong will, an independent mind, and she makes sense. I can relate to her because she is not farfetched, she just worked hard and backed herself up with education. In the story, Kearabetswe is educated outside of Tholoana Kingdom and under western education, therefore being in possession of a Master’s degree in journalism. She was born in Tholoana Kingdom but practically grew up in Johannesburg where she attended boarding school as well as university. After years of all of this education, she – like many other graduates – was looking forward to being a graduate in some company out there or a young professional. But her family had other plans for her. And these plans led her back home to Tholoana Kingdom and forcefully married off to King Mohato Mohale. I think what makes it most enjoyable for married people or people in relationships, she is honest and nakedly open about the challenges of her marriage. Her marriage is all kinds of challenges because of the unavoidable clash that continuously happens between modernity (Kea’s education and shift in her way of thinking and comprehending as a result of her strong educational background) and cultural beliefs (Mohato’s way of ruling the Kingdom being solely based on his cultural education that remains untainted by western ideologies). And if that doesn’t get you interested, this book directly and indirectly addresses issues of infertility and the impact it has on marriage in the cultural context. It conventionally and unconventionally discusses love, its challenges, its values, and its power. It addresses divorce, the impact of colourism in young black children, and step-parenting, to name a few. I really think you would enjoy it too”, I say.

He smiles at me.

“You are actually smarter than what you give yourself credit for. You do not need to sit in a classroom and get a piece of paper that confirms that you crammed a textbook in order for you to know that you are smart. You just read a book and interpreted it phenomenally – without that education you admire yourself. I think we put way too much pressure in the textbook written by people like you and I for affirmation of our own intelligence. In my opinion, the education system can learn a thing or two from us”, he says.

“As beautiful as what you are saying is, job applications are more interested in what the piece of paper has to say about my ability to cram a textbook.” Me.

He brushes my face.

“Hungry?” Him.

“Can we order in?” I request.

“There’s a nice restaurant downstairs”, him.

“I really don’t feel like people”, I say.

He is a bit disappointed but he agrees and we order some pizza. He goes downstairs to get us drinks. He gets me good wine, and gets himself good beer.

Our pizza arrives and we DMC over a good meal.

“I worry about you”, him.

“Why?” I ask.

“Something tells me that you have accepted within yourself that you do not deserve anything that is not broken”, he says.

I do not respond.

“What makes you think you do not deserve happiness?” he asks me.

“It’s not that I don’t think that I do not deserve happiness. I just know how to deal with disappointment better. We are trained for it all our lives. Our society has become too nasty for one to still expect sunshine and daisies in 2019. Quotes all around us motivate us to be immune to nasty people. There are women out there who have no care in the world about how their actions affect you; they say you are not their problem. They shamelessly and recklessly tare families apart for money and greed, and then have the audacity to demand your respect after that – threatening you with all kinds of things and calling you weak because you are heartbroken. We have our families and friends consistently advising us to avoid the possibility of infidelities as if being cheated on is somehow your own fault. Our society has become a playground full of nasty people and no one is teaching them kindness, thoughtfulness, or the value and importance of the next person. How can you not expect brokenness out of any and every situation when you wake up every day knowing that you will probably meet a broken person who will also try to break you?” Me. I am actually talking a lot today. I am comfortable.

“Do you really believe that?” He asks me with genuine concern.

“I do”, me.

“What will it take for you to change your mind?” He asks me.

“A bite off the ‘happily ever after’ cake”, I tell him.

We eat the rest of the pizza in silence. I had no more than three slices, he had the rest of the box. After that, we settled on the bed in a cuddled position. It feels nice. It feels safe. It feels like a promise to the grass being greener on the other side of my marriage.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks me.

“What you being here means for my job”, I lie but I am curious.

“We are not going to fire you”, he says.

“Your brothers know where you are right now?” I ask him.

“Yes. My brothers know how I feel about you”, he says.

“How do you feel about me?” I ask him.

“I love you”, he says.

I am quiet.

“I didn’t plan to tell you that today but there it is… that’s how I feel”, he says.

I have never had a man tell me that. I am not exactly sure what the best response would be. I feel something strong for him – definitely. I am just not sure if its love. And I am not sure if I feel what I am feeling because of what I am going through with Nathi.

I lift my head up from his chest and look at him. He kisses me. The last time I kissed Nathi was the day we got married. And it didn’t feel this warm, sincere, and inviting. I feel like I am drinking out of a cup of my virginity and at this rate, I will probably lay my virginity on this bed with a man that I am not married to. I am about to become everything the bible warns a man about when it comes to a woman. Ikaneng and I are getting into it, we are half undressed. My conscience gets the better of me and my body starts trembling. He stops. My body is ready to be taken by a man, but the zulu princess in me is not ready… Nathi’s wife in me is not ready… not like this.

“We can stop.” He says.

“I’m a virgin. I’m scared”, I say.

He looks at me – shocked. I just cannot figure out if it is a good shock or a bad shock.

And then he hugs me.

He puts me back on his chest and offers me a whole lot more… he gives me genuine intimacy. He didn’t screw me at all, but his gentleness and genuineness made love to my heart.

…

I went back to my house after waking up next to Ikaneng. We went for a morning jog together and then he let me go back home. I arrive and find my parents, Nathi’s parents, and Nathi sitting in our little TV room supposedly waiting for me.

I’m not sure if I should even greet. The energy is intense.

“Sawubona nakuwe Thandeka Buthelezi”, my mother.

“Sanibonani”, me.

“Nkosikazi ngicela uyogqoka sizokwazi ukukhulumisana nabadala”, Nkosinathi says.

“Ngeke ngikwazi, I have to go to work”, I say.

“Work? Usebenzaphi wena?” My mother.

I am quiet. Part of my marriage plan was for me to never work.

“Ngane yami, sicela isikhathi sakho sthandwa sikababa.” My dad says. The love of my life.

I sit down.

“Makoti, please do not disrespect us. Go wear an appropriate outfit fit for you to be in the presence of your in-laws”, Nathi’s mother requests.

I get up and get changed. I wear my maxi-dress, pumps, headscarf, and shawl. I come back into the TV room and sit next to Nathi.

“Awusalali endlini makoti?” Nathi’s mother fails to hold back.

“uNathi akasalali endlini mama. Futhi nawe uyakwazi lokho. The last time you were here, you saw it for yourself. Pho kungani mina kumele ngihlale lana ngibe unogada walana ekhaya?” I say.

The entire room gasps.

“Uzikhohliwe ukuthi ukhuluma nobani Thandeka? Waze wangihlaza bo”, my mother.

“Ima kancane mkami”, my father. He continues, “Nina bakwaButhelezi nihlulekaukukhuza ingane yenu ngokulala phandle kodwa nisibize nigijima thina ukuthi nizositshela ukuthi eyethu indodakazi imoshile? Siyolungisa njani uma iqiniso lingekho?” Thank you baba, at least someone is on my side.

“Bab’Zulu, sizolungisa lomshado lana. We are not here to play the blame game”, Nathi’s father.

“Phambili kokuthi nilungise, you need to know the facts. Nkosinathi has a girlfriend who disrespects me, disrespects this house, and disrespects him”, I start.

“Makoti”, Nathhi’s mom tries to stop me but something has come over me and now I am unstoppable.

“Hhe eh mah! Ningibizile lana. Now you will sit there and listen to what I have to say”, I say. Everyone is shocked, including Nkosinathi. They thought they could just bully me in this meeting.

“Nkosinathi has moved me to a flat in Durban so that he can live here with his mistress and that woman’s child. I have been living in Durban that’s how and why I got a job. And mina, I didn’t call a family meeting. Nathi called this meeting because I kicked his girlfriend and that child out and now he wants to take her to be his second wife”, I spew out to them.

“INI?!” The whole room has gone from shocked to disappointed; then from disappointed, to disbelief.

“Nkosinathi, what do you have to say for yourself?” My father confronts him. My mother is looking at Nathi like he is an unknown demon. Nathi’s parents are embarrassed. Nathi is quiet.

“Mkhwenyana, ungilethe lana under the impression that my daughter was not being a good wife to you. Kanti this is what you have been subjecting her to?” My mother calmly says to Nkosinathi.

Nathi is silent.

“I want a divorce”, I say.

Now all eyes are on me.

“Akuna mshado lana. And I will not tolerate Nathi’s and Patience’s disrespect any longer”, I say.

“Hhayi bo makoti, ihhaba”, Nathi’s mother.

“You have made me feel like I should be honoured to be married to inkosana yakwaButhelezi. Ngathi nikhohliwe ukuthi name ngiyinkosazana yakwaZulu. NginguMageba uqobo lwakhe and Nkosinathi must respect me the same way he expects respect from me. Ngeke ngiphathwe sengathi nginguloo magosha alala naye uNathi. I also demand my respect as a princess. You didn’t do me a favour by marrying me off to a prince.” I tell them.

My father is so proud of me. He cannot even hide it.

“Nkosikazi, ngibona ngathi sekumele uwehle manje.” Nkosinathi.

“I want a divorce Nkosinathi”, I emphasise.

There is silence.

“Nkosinathi!!! Sesibuyile love. Our bags are in the car. I hope you have made breakfast”, says PayPay as she walks into my house. She and her daughter stumble upon the elders, Nkosinathi, and myself. Everyone in the room looks at Nkosinathi. Nathi buries his head in the palm of his hands.

“Sanibonani family. Igama lami uPatience Longomo soon to be Patience Buthelezi, your daughter-in-law”, she says this as she flashes a diamond ring on her finger around the room.

Dear reader, please remember that I don’t even have a wedding ring.

[married-world-blog]

The next chapter

I moved up to KZN. Instead of going home, I settled in a cute one bedroom flat in Durban. Nkosinathi and I decided that we would not involve our parents at this stage. He is paying for my flat and was kind enough to bring my car to Durban for me. Quite a huge price he is willing to pay to have me out of his and Pay-Pay’s way if you ask me.

I decided to find a job. I applied at a few companies in Durban and Nkosinathi made some calls. Remember guys, I do not have so much as a degree nyana. At this point, I am Mrs Drop-Out corresponding with Unisa to have the very Bachelors degree. A company was kind enough to see my potential and give me a junior position in their PR team. I am the PA to the Chief PR officer so I am looking forward to shadowing this human being while I find my feet.

The company is a logistics company owned by four brothers from Botswana; the Makgamathe brothers. Two of the brothers are married, one of the brothers is too young for me, and the other is just my cup of tea. I am technically still married but my eyes can still window-shop rights?

They are nice people, all four of them. They are driven by profit, which I like because they give me a lot of work to focus on and very little time to worry about Nathi. I am somewhere between moving on and being hopeful. We have all found ourselves here… where we genuinely feel that we should not give up too quickly because one day, your man will see you. He will see that you are better than the girl he imagined to spend the rest of his life with. One day he will chase you even when you don’t want him to. And that one day, he will see that he will never find another you. And then there is that part of you that forces you to move on, telling you that he will never see you. And that the more you stay, the more you push him away; or that the more you forgive and understand, the more you send your heart to hell. I am stuck between being selfish by choosing me, and being a wife by choosing my marriage.

“Mrs Buthelezi”, Zelda says as she snaps her fingers in my face. Zelda is my boss and the chief PR officer of the company. I look up at her, indicating that she has my attention now.

“Get your note pad. Let’s go, the bosses are waiting for us”, she says.

I grab my ipad and find my way to the boardroom right after her. We get there and the brothers are sitting there already, waiting for us.

“Ladies”, Ikaneng, the eldest brother acknowledges us. “Thank you for joining us”, he continues. Obusitse and Kopano look at us, smile at us actually. Kopano is the second eldest. He and Obusitse are the married ones. Ikaneng is still single – only he knows why. I think he is the gay brother. Every family of fine brothers has the odd one out. The youngest is Lefatse, and he is being a 21 year old on his iphone.

The meeting goes in and I draw on my book. PR can get boring, I will not lie. We talking about the image of the company and managing the media here and there because it is such a huge company. But the exciting part of PR is when there is a massive scandal and one needs to “Olivia-Pope” the image of the company out of the scandal. I raise my head and see Ikaneng smiling at me. I blush. I look away.

“Will that be all?” Kopano says after the short useless meeting that just happened.

Zelda says some last words like she always does – a true PR chief. She then concludes the meeting. As we get up, Ikaneng says, “Thandeka, can I see you in my office for a minute please”? I look around. Kopano and Obusitse giggle as if they know what the meeting is about. Lefatse shakes his head.

“Uhm…” that’s my silly response.

“It will only take a minute”, he says.

“Quickly, hurry up. We need to travel to Joburg. Our flight leaves in three hours”, Zelda rushes me. I haven’t even told Nathi that I will be in Joburg for a few days, but I will deal with that when he decides to call me. He has called to check up on me once since I got up here.

Ikaneng and I go into his office.

He looks at me. I look at him. He smiles at me. I am weakened. I look away. He uses his hand to bring my face towards his. After he kills me one more time with his smile, he walks away to sit in his seat.

“You are a beautiful woman Thandeka”, he tells me.

“I am a married woman Mr Makgamathe”, I say.

“How does your husband feel about you travelling?” he asks me.

I am silent.

“Are you happily married?” he asks.

I am silent.

“Where is your wedding ring?” he asks me.

I am silent.

He shakes his head.

“Why am I here?” I ask him.

“My brothers and I are going to Botswana in a week’s time. We want to see if we cannot open office there. Have a branch in Botswana and grow the company outside of the South African borders. I want you to come with us. You are good at this business thing. We want to make you research manager of the start-up office. We would make you project manager but you do need to get your hands a bit more dirty to handle that kind of responsibility. I will be the project manager. Zelda will find a new PA in the meantime”, he says.

“Thank you sir. I would be honoured”, I say. All I heard was ‘more money baby and depending less on Nkosinathi’.

“I am glad. Enjoy Joburg, I will see you when you get back”, he says.

…

I told Zelda that I will be staying at my own house when in Joburg because vele I am still u-madam in my house. Little did I know that PayPay and Unathi had moved in. I am infuriated beyond belief.

Okay, I will take you back to my arrival.

I still have the remote control so I let myself in at the gate. I still have my house keys so I let myself into my house. I found PayPay comfortable in my kitchen, cooking in one of my dresses (yes – that bitch has some nerve), Nathi was at work, and his almost-name-sake-Unathi was doing homework. I walked in and realised that my gym had been turned into Unathi’s bedroom so my equipment was now put in the storeroom in our complex. My bedroom now had PayPay’s pictures on the wall. I walked in, not even saying hello, and charged straight to my room. I pulled out refuse bags and shoved all of PayPay’s things and Unathi’s things in them. I shoved them out of my house. I then pulled PayPay out of my house, kicking and screaming and her daughter ran out herself. I told the security guards to never let them both in my house. So they were escorted to the street.

The nerve of Nkosinathi Buthelezi.

Bloody fool!

I spent three hours spring cleaning my house. I took down curtains that were gifted to me by Nkosinathi’s aunts when we got married and washed them in the washing machine. They just smell like her. I was washing blankets and sheets; carpets and table-cloths… the works.

It starts pouring and I can still see PayPay and her kid on the street. The security guards were nice enough to let them stay in their little security house. After I have put up new curtains, new carpets, and new bedding, I pour myself a glass of wine. Thank God she didn’t touch my good Bayede! Wine selections. I would have gone out to slap her this time. I put on some good Angie Stone music, run myself a bubble bath by candle-light, and then I enjoy my wine while reading My Worth Crowned You.

When the water starts getting a bit cold. I get out of the water and get into PJs after lotioning myself.

Ikaneng calls me. I giggle.

“Hi”, I answer my phone.

“Hello beautiful”, he says.

“You okay?” I ask him.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about you. How was your trip?” Him.

“It was okay”, I say.

“Zelda tells me that you decided to stay at your house. You speaking to me in front of hubby?” he asks.

“You deliberately called me hoping that I would speak to you in front of hubby?” I ask.

He laughs.

“I just wanted to make sure that you are good. And I wanted to let you know that I am thinking about you”, him.

I smile.

I know it’s wrong, but I actually feel something for this guy.

“Have a good night okay?” he says.

“You too”, me.

With that, I pass out.

…

I am woken up by loud screaming noises and I recognise Nathi’s voice there. I get up, wear my gown and walk into the rain where this arguing is going on between him and PayPay.

“You said she’s in Durban. Why is she back?” Patience, yelling at the top of her voice. All the neighbours have come out now to see what is happening. There is never drama here so this is not even a “call the police” moment, it is a “finally, some action around here moment”.

“What do you want me to say? I didn’t know she was coming back”, Nathi humbly says, submitting to this rowdy and ghetto-ass bitch. Nathi has been bewitched yaz.

“Ingane yami ilambile Nkosinathi. We have been standing in the rain all day since that village bitch got back. Our stuff are in torn refuse bags Nkosinathi. This is our home”, she yells back.

I go back into the house and grab the pot that she was cooking in. She cannot cook anyway. She is hungry for this boiled chicken shit that she was making… she can have it – with that pot she was cooking with. Class-less woman out here cooking with the pots of another woman.

I stroll to the gate with the pot.

I get to Nathi and Patience with a pot in my hands.

“Nkosinathhi, kusebusuku, nibanga umsindo”, I calmly say.

Everyone is staring at us as if they have been waiting for this to happen. Nathi and Patience are shocked at how calm and nonchalant I am right now.

“Uthe wena nengane yakho nilambile. Thatha ukudla kwenu niyodla le e-stradini”, I say to Patience and then throw the pot at her. She catches the pot.

“Why are you doing this?” Nathi asks me.

“Nkosinathi Buthelezi, ufuna isthembu? Then do things the right way. Ask for permission from indlu’enkulu – mina lo. Biza umndeni so that they can tell you if it’s appropriate or not. And then get your lunchbox her own house. Where have you ever seen the lunchbox, who is not even a proper wife yet, living in the actual wife’s house? Ningi jwayela kabi nina nobabili. And you will get exactly what you are begging me for. Keep pushing me”, I say.

They are quiet.

“Nkosinathi, it’s late. You are making a noise and causing a scene. I suggest you come inside the house and sleep”, I say. I turn around and start walking towards my house.

“Patience and Unathi need a place to sleep. Please let them stay the night… just one night. Tomorrow we will make a plan”, Nathi says to me.

“Voetsek Nkosinathi! Voetsek!” I say. I walk back into my house.

…

I woke up in the morning and Nathi was not home. He must have gone somewhere with Patience, Unathi and the pot. I call a locksmith to come by and change the locks. I quickly shower and get ready for work at our Joburg office but I call in to let Zelda know that I will be late.

The locksmith arrives and changes the locks. After he leaves, I leave.

I see Nathi driving towards our complex as I exit the suburb. I hope he enjoys the surprise.

After a good metro-fm drive to work, I get there and promise myself that I will have a good day. My phone has been ringing off the hook – it’s Nathi so I shall not pick up. Nathi will learn what time it is. I have a productive day and then knock off at 7pm, explaining that I am making up for arriving late.

My phone rings. It is Ikaneng.

I answer through the Bluetooth answering-option in my car.

“Hi Ikaneng”, I say.

“You are working too hard. I just saw that you only logged off 10 minutes ago”, he says.

“Well, I got to work late today so I wanted to make up my eight hours”, I say.

“I see. But seriously, I don’t want you overworking yourself. We don’t pay you enough for such hours and I am not trying to be in trouble with employment law”, he says.

We giggle.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“I am still at the office”, he says.

“Seriously? After that entire lecture about taking it easy?” me.

“I need to keep the ship running madam. I am the big boss”, he says.

“I see”, him.

“How about we chat until you get home and then I will pack up and go home?” him.

“Okay”, me.

“So, tell me about your husband”, he says.

I sigh.

“I promise I will not judge you”, he says.

“Well, he is from a royal family and I am from a royal family so our parents thought it would be great if we got married. I always knew that this would be my reality so I never even bothered dating. He is literally my first partner”, I say.

“So it is an arranged marriage?” Him.

“Yep”, me.

“So do you guys get along?” him.

“We used to. We have never been in love with another but there was a time when we were really great housemates. But lately, he let me into his world far more than I honestly would have asked and I am paying the price of knowing about his girlfriend – the one he truly loves”, I say.

He is quiet.

“I have always known that Nathi does not love me. I guess I liked the fact that at the very least, I am respected. But he has taken that away too. It is as if he is punishing me for knowing about his girlfriend. And she is so despicable. She has absolutely no respect for me or Nathi. She throws her weight around and expects to be heard. And I hate the person that she is making me become”, I keep ranting.

“Do you want out of the marriage?” he asks me a very good question.

“Lord knows I do. I just don’t know how to get out. I proposed to Nathi that we call a family meeting and divorce because neither of us want this marriage. He insisted that we stay together. The families will not support me – not even if I tell them about his girlfriend. They will tell me to just deal with it”, I tell him. I am being honest

“What do you want Thandeka?” Him.

No one has ever asked me that question – EVER! And it brings me to tears that Ikaneng actually wants to know what I want and I feel would make me happy.

“I just want to be happy. I want peace. I want genuine smiles and a beautiful connection with a good man who will choose me – and only me – even when the options around me are better than me. I want to go to bed with happy heart because I am not hanging in the middle of a marriage. I want a biblical and sacred marriage – not what I have with Nkosinathi”, I am crying as I say this.

“Do you want me to fly to Joburg tonight?” him.

I cry a bit.

“Yes”, I say.

“Okay. I will send you a reference in the 30 minutes. Pack your bags and go check into the Saxon Hotel. I will be on the next flight out. I will see you when I get there”, he says.

“Okay”, I say, still crying.

“Bye”, him.

“Bye”, me.

…

I open the gate to my complex.

I find Nathi leaning against the door outside our apartment. I wipe my tears. I get out the car. I look at him. I open the door.

“So you changed the locks to my own flat?” Nathi.

“What would you have me do Nathi? Angisho wena you turn my house into a brothel when I am not around?” me.

“You need to start respecting Patience a bit more”, he says.

Akanyi perhaps?

“Mxm”, me.

I walk to my bedroom and pack an overnight bag.

“Uyaphi?” he asks me.

“I am giving you and Patience space”, my response.

“You can’t. Our parents are coming over. There is a family meeting tonight”, him.

Now I am shaken.

“It will have to wait. I have plans”, I tell him.

I leave standing in the centre of our TV room, gobsmacked.

“Brand New Me”, Alicia Keys.

[married-world-blog]

Unathi

I am outside the police station, crying in my car, unable to gather myself to go and drop the charges against PayPay. I decide that I will ready my addiction, “My Worth Crowned You”, while I wait. Perhaps some divine intervention will come upon me and help me decide on a way forward.

The chapter that I read is the where a professional side-chick is killed by the rage of the wife. Dear universe, if you are trying to communicate something with me through this book, please make your message louder and not subject it to just my new found addiction in ready My Worth Crowned You. Universe, please put a gun or a knife in my hand… something – anything – and I will kill PayPay in a heartbeat. Except, I do not have a husband who will cover up the murder for me.

My phone rings. It is my mother-in-law. I am telling her everything. I am telling her what her son is doing to me, our marriage, and the elders’ investments in my marriage. The Buthelezi elders must help me deal with PayPay because their son is evidently blinded by the abuse that they feed him. He is no different to an abused woman actually. The signs, the actions, the way that he responds to all of this: he is an abused man. And he actually wants to marry by his abuser.

“Sawubona Mah”, I greet her.

“Makoti. Ukuphi?” she replies. She is cold like that.

“I am outside a holding cell mah”, I say.

There is silence over the phone.

“Angizwanga?” Her.

“I am outside a holding cell”, I continue.

“Doing what?” she coldly asks.

“Nkosinathi asked me to release the woman who put him in hospital from jail”, I say.

She is quiet.

Then she says, “Send me your location. Don’t move, I am on my way”.

…

As I am sitting in the car waiting for my mother-in-law, I see Khensani walking out of the holding cells with bloody Pay-Pay. I think about getting out and causing drama, but then I would be displaying to them how frustrated they are making me. But if I sit here and do nothing, I will be suffering alone. I call Nkosinathi’s mother and tell her to not come anymore because Patience has been bailed out by a friend and has left.

An insecurity overcomes me and I decide to follow them. I hope and pray that they do not see me. I need to know why this girl has the hold that she has on my husband and is threatening the functionality of that marriage. We get to some very stylish apartments in Sunninghill. The gate opens as they approach it. I assume she lives here so she has the remote control to open the gate. While I am sitting here trying to figure out how I will get in, a security guard approaches my car.

“Sisi, can we help you?” the guard with a foreign accent says to me after knocking on my tinted window.

“I am looking for the closest shopping centre. I was hoping that you could perhaps direct me?” I say.

“You don’t live around here?” the security guard enquires.

“No I don’t. I was visiting a friend”, I say.

He directs me but I rather focus on just removing myself from this gate.

I reverse my car without saying thank you or goodbye. I am so rude, gosh. Please forgive me.

I park my car just behind the complex and hope for something to happen. Nkosinathi calls me. I do not pick up the phone. He calls again, I do not pick up the call.

I see Patience and Khensani walk out of the complex. They seem to be going across the road. It is a nursery school there. Khensani stays outside while Patience goes in. She walks out with a child who is the spitting image of her. She has a daughter. Wow. My insecurities grow more than intense. Pay-Pay is actually very beautiful. She is wearing simple black jeans and a simple white t-shirt. She has her afro out. She has no make-up. She is a beautiful dark-skinned woman. Now I see what Nathi sees in her. Why does she not respect herself a whole lot better? She is unbelievably gorgeous. And this mother thing – it makes her shimmer even more. I catch myself smiling yet jealous at the same time.

In no time, a Jeep Wrangler parks in front of them. A hectically old white man steps out of the car. Khensani runs away. Patience tries to push her daughter out of the way but the daughter trips and falls. Khensani keeps on running. Patience is beaten to a pulp by this white man. The daughter runs and hides behind a tree. The white man shoves Patience in the car. The car drives off.

The daughter is frightened beyond belief. I am frightened beyond belief. This quiet suburb identifies no witnesses to what just happened. I get out of the car. The daughter looks at me. She is not sure if she should run to me for comfort or run away from me in order to obey the principle of not talking to strangers.

“Hi”, I say as I get to her.

She looks away. She is crying.

“My name is Thandeka. I’d like to help you”, I say.

She looks at me, hesitant. I don’t think she knows what to do right now. And honestly, neither do I.

“Look, I know your mother. I saw what just happened. I will keep you safe until she comes back. Or I can take you to a relative that you may know of until your mom comes back”, I say.

“Take me too uncle Nathi’s house”, she says. She knows my husband. Lovely. Who knew that whores use their kids in this game?

“I am uncle Nathi’s wife so you would be going to my house”, I say.

“You are?” she seems surprised.

I nod my head.

“Uncle Nathi loves my mom. And he loves me. And I am going to be his daughter soon”, she says.

I look at her.

“Actually, you can stay right here. I will tell uncle Nathi to come and get you instead”, I say as I walk away from her.

“Please don’t leave me here by myself. If those men come back, they will do nasty things to me”, she says in desperation.

I want to say that’s not my problem. Inhlonipho phela ayikho la. How can she say those things to me after I have told her who I am? The next thing I will have this little insolent brat in my house calling shots because she is Nathi’s daughter now?

But she looks scared.

“Please Thandeka”, she begs. You see what I mean? Not even a Sis’Thandeka nyana?

“Get in the car”, I say. She sprints to my car and jumps into the backseat. She buckles herself in. She looks at me. I look at her.

I drive off.

…

I get to my house and find that Nathi has been discharged. Everyone is amazed at the child that I am walking in with and Nathi is the only one who knows who this is.

“Uncle Nathi!” the girl yells as she runs to him. My in-laws are beyond confused.

Nathi looks at me while hugging the girl, seeking an explanation.

“Uncle Nathi, those nasty men came for mom again and took her. Thandeka helped me run away. I told her that you love me, you love my mom, and that I am going to be your princess soon”, she blurts out.

Nathi’s mother looks at me.

“Yini le Nkosinathi?” Nathi’s father barks.

Nathi is silent.

“Manyala mani lawa enzekayo?” his father continues.

“Uncle Nathi say something”, the girl says.

“Hey! Shut up wena man. This is not your mother’s house. You are making a noise”, Nathi’s mother yells at the little girl and she hides behind Nathi.

I am actually hurting. I feel like screaming. I have a hatred towards this child. I am growing a hatred for Nathi too. I cannot live like this. I actually want to go back home. I want to be with my mom. I need her to comfort me and I need my dad to shelter me. I don’t have any friends or siblings. I have never felt so alone in my life. My marriage to Nathi was more bearable when I knew nothing about his life outside of me.

“Can I please speak to my wife?” Nathi says.

I just look at him.

“I need to go for a run”, I say.

I walk past everyone in the room, get into my bedroom, change into fitness tights, a long t-shirt, and my Puma running sneakers. I get a cap and throw it over my braids. I get out of the bedroom, the TV room is still silent. I leave. I get to the gate of our complex. I take a deep breath. I cry a little bit. I wipe my tears and I start running. Silly me did not stretch before my run so 3km into my run, I pull a muscle. The pain is unbearable but it does not come close to the pain in my heart. I start limping, heading into the direction of a mall. I need some air. I cannot go back home right now.

“Hey”, a man stops his car next to me. This just simply reminds me of the boys in KZN who work in Joburg for three months, buy a Polo-nyana and then come back home to promise us village girls a good life… stopping us as walk to the shop as if his Polo-swag speaks for itself. I find the entire image funny, so I giggle.

“Hawu ausi ka nnete o tlo tsamaya fela and just laugh at me?” he says, trying to be smooth.

I didn’t even hear what he said at the beginning of his sentence so he can actually just drive on. I will keep limping on.

He stops the car. Typical KZN-Polo-boy behaviour.

He runs to me.

“I think you have hurt yourself a bit. Let me help you”, he says.

“Thanks but my husband is a doctor. I will be fine”, I say. He is disappointed.

“Let me at least take you home”, he says.

“No thanks”, I say. Still giggling. I guess he is reading this as me playing hard to get.

Another car stops there next to us. Tshepo aka Dr Moagi sprints out of the car.

“Ek se”, he intimidates the Polo guy.

“Sho”, the Polo guy says.

“Everything okay?” Tshepo enquires.

“The lady seems hurt. I was just helping out”, the Polo guy says.

“Thanks but I got it. This is my boy’s wife. I am sure you understand”, Tshepo.

The guys shake hands and Polo dude gets back into his Polo and drives off.

“You okay?” Tshepo asks.

I just roll my eyes at him and limp on.

“I am on my way to your house, I can give you a lift”, he offers.

“No thanks”, I say. And keep on limping.

“Thandeka, I am really sorry about everything”, he says.

I ignore him and painfully limp towards a coffee shop in sight.

I settle there, order myself some coffee and croissants. I pull out my phone and read the pdf of my addiction – My Worth Crowned You.

In the middle of Kea confronting Mohato about Ntombi the maid-mistress, Nathi sits in front of me. I look at him. I am actually annoyed.

“I heard that you injured yourself. Let me have a look”, he says.

“I will be okay”, I say.

“Where’s Patience?” he asks me.

“Nathi, ufunani la?” I ask him. Nathi doesn’t respect me yaz.

“I need to know where Patience is”, he says.

“Why would I know where Patience is? Ngi-gosha naye mina?” I clap back.

He is silent.

“Where did you find Unathi?” He asks me after a brief silence.

“Ubani u-Unathi?” I ask him.

“Patience’s daughter”, he says.

Wow, now I truly have heard it all.

“Nathi, I know ekhaya kuthiwa kumele ngibekezele. Kodwa this is just pure and uncalled-for disrespect. Awusangiboni at all. And awusangihloniphi. Akusena mshado la phakathi kwami nawe. I think it’s time I went back home. Ngizokhuluma nabantu abadala and then you and I can get a divorce. I may be a village girl, but I know my worth. I don’t care how much of a prince you are… I am also a princess. You have me rolling in mud with whores and then you have the audacity to sit here and ask me about your whore and its child? I should have left that child there. But ke, it doesn’t matter. I am driving back home tonight. I am done with you. I am done with this Patience bull-shit. And I am done with trying this marriage thing with you”, I say.

He did not expect that at all. He is beyond shocked.

“Ngicela ungahambi Thandeka. I am sorry. I will treat you better. I will respect you better. Kodwa ngiyakucela nkosikazi, please don’t leave me”, he says.

“Nathi you don’t even want me. You want Patience. You have made that very clear. And I don’t deserve to be where I am not wanted. All of this is difficult for me too. I did not choose to marry you Nathi. But you truly believe that it is an honour for me to be married to you. It is not”, I say.

“Please do not leave me. We will work this out. Please nkosikazi”, he begs. He is on his knees. The entire coffee shop is starring.

I’d be a bitch if I were to tell him to go to hell right now wouldn’t I?

“Nathi”, a voice says.

We both look up at the human hovering over us. It is Khensani…

And Pay-Pay beaten up to a pulp.

Nathi looks at me as if seeking permission to attend to Pay-Pay.

I get up and leave the coffee shop before I could even get my order.

I stand outside and wait for an uber. Nathi comes and stands with me. I order my uber ride via my app.

“I don’t know what to do”, he says.

I am quiet.

“Please tell me what to do and I will do it”, he says.

I am silent.

“I am begging you. Anything you say, I will do. Just tell me what to do and I promise you, I will do it”, he keeps begging.

“Be with Patience” I say.

My uber arrives.

“Please don’t leave me Thandeka”, he begs me one more time.

I limp to my uber and leave him on his knees outside the coffee shop.

[married-world-blog]

The Heir

I have been sleeping here at the hospital, on the chair, resting my head on Nathi’s bed, for the past two days. He opens his eyes but doesn’t say anything and then he sleeps again. The nurses say that it is a clear indication of his healing. I haven’t been home because I am borderline scared of Nathi’s parents. All they do is yell. So now, I go home to change when they come to see him. But also, this is the closest that I have ever been in sleeping next to him.

Dr Moagi keeps coming in to check up on him but I keep it professional between us. How dare he tell me about a girlfriend. I am definitely disrespected in Nathi’s world.

A very good friend of mine, Ketso, wrote a book last year. I bought a copy a copy but never really got around to reading it. While I wait for husband to wake up, I have been reading. And I am relating to this book far more than I expected to. Kea’s journey is a hitting home for me because I am in an arranged marriage, just like she is. She is just the rebellious type with a score to settle with her family. I am not that brave. The more I read this book though, the more I envy Kea’s strength. But also, the more I am seriously considering trying to actually have a marriage with Nkosinathi. I never believed that books could change your mind. But this one is getting to me. It is affecting my perspective, and in a weird way, I feel like the universe is speaking to me through this book. I feel like Nathi is my Mohato and I am his Kea. And if we don’t make our marriage work – at least for us – then I will not be able to protect him from the Pay-Pays of the world. rIt is affecting my perspective, and in a weird way, I feel like the universe is speaking to me through this book. I feel like Nathi is my Mohato and I am his Kea. And if we don’t make our marriage work – at least for us – then I will not be able to protect him from the Pay-Pays of the world. Sometimes, as women, we are built to be lionesses. You need to protect your man, your home, your family… if not, the king of your home will be vulnerable to the Pay-Pay kind of vultures. I wish I read this book sooner.

With the permission of the author, I have attached a PDF version of the book to this blog. Read it. It is worth it. Investing in this book is a journey on its own, and you will take something from it. Trust me.

“Nkosikazi”, Nathi finally wakes up and speaks.

I put the book down, and look at him. I get up and hover over him.

“Ukahle?” That is all that I can ask him. You know when you and your heart make a decision to turn things around but “uvalo” betrays you? And instead of saying “hey baby, how are you feeling? I am here and I will make sure that you heal well”, all you do say is “ukahle?”

“Inhlungu nje ezingasho lutho. Kodwa ngizolulama ngesikhathi. Wena? Ukahle?” He asks again.

“Physically, yeah… kodwa ngikhathazekile ngawe. Ungithusile”, I try again. Anything is better than ukahle.

“I am alright. Kanti futhi nawe usemuhle impela MaZulu”, he says.

I chuckle.

I sit down on the side of his bed.

“Do you want a child?” I ask him. I think it is only fair that we decide what we want and see how we sell it to our families.

“An heir to the Buthelezi throne is needed. I have to have a child whether I want one or not”, he tells me.

“So howcome you have never even brought it up with me? Or is it a matter of not even wanting a child with me?” I ask him.

“I can have a child with any woman on this planet, but the heir can only come from you. So why bother with other women only to have a child grow up feeling like a mistake… or as if something is not right with him or her because he or she will never inherit the throne?” He says.

I am quiet. I have no answer. This is a true story of how us women are. It is very difficult for us to be decent step-mothers to children of the men that we say we love. But we expect them to love our children in order to prove that they love us. How else can a child feel like a mistake? Or feel as if something is not quite right with him or her? But now, I really am worried. Is Nathi trying to tell me something? Does he have a child? Is the mother of that child Pay-Pay? Why else would everyone be so sensitive about Pay-Pay and whatever else she shares with Nathi? And most importantly, what does Pay-Pay have on Nathi that makes Nathi allow her to treat him like this? Is it a child that I am supposed to accept? Is it a child that will truly test me – the essence of the woman that I am?

“Did you know that I was in the navy? I actually got my medicine degree through the navy”, he says, out of the blue.

“No, I didn’t know.” He is telling me this for the first time and I truly am intrigued.

“I joined the navy straight after matric. I was supposed to marry some girl and the whole idea of it just freaked me out. So I stayed away from her and my family by applying to join the navy and then furthering my education there. The training was intense. I enjoyed it though. I met a hella funny friend from the Vaal. He was so funny. We were even roommates. He said the weirdest shit and saw absolutely nothing wrong with half of the garbage that came out of his mouth”, he laughs as he says this and I laugh too, suddenly keen to meet this friend because he seems to be the most decent friend that he may or may not have.

“His name was Lucas. Lucas and I were two of the best soldiers that the navy had. There were five of us. And we were always sent when there was a call to answer to. I owed them my medicine degree plus it was my duty to the country to go to war and do what I was trained to do. We went with the defence force once to the DRC. It was an unusual thing to do but we were trained – intensely trained – for it. Of the five of us, only two of us came back. The other three died with our other soldiers in the war. Lucas died too. I was paralysed for a while and I was then told that I would never be able to have children naturally”, he is crying now. So am I. But I will admit, I am happy there is no mini-him running around out there.

“My parents keep putting this pressure on me to have a child… to give the throne an heir. But I am not able to; not naturally anyway. I guess if I stayed and married the first chosen bride for me, I would have some children by now. But I disobeyed my parents and these were the consequences of my disrespect and disobedience”, he says.

“You are being too hard on yourself. These things happen. It was an accident. Accidents happen all the time”, I try to console him.

“So you see, I could make love to you as per the requirements of our marriage, but the baby will never come. Patience is frustrated with me because I cannot give her any children. That is why she beats me up the way that she does and then calls me names that speak to my infertility. That woman has broken me”, he says.

I don’t know what to say.

“Nathi, you are a doctor. Surely, you believe in other methods of producing a baby that we could explore”, I say.

“Would you really want to put your body through all of that?” he asks me.

“We need an heir right? Ubukhosi abukwazi ukugcina ngathi. Your parents said so themselves”, I respond.

“I think my parents truly picked a good woman for me”, he tells me.

I smile.

“Nathi”, I call him.

“Nkosikazi”, he replies.

“I know that one day we will probably start having sex. But judging from your choice in women, I am telling you upfront that you will need to get tested for any STDs and STIs, or any other stuff you may be a carrier of because of the people you sleep with” I tell him.

He looks at me – shocked more than anything.

We both burst into laughter.

“So you want to judge me for being in a relationship with Patience. Let’s hear about your list of men that you have been with”, he says.

“Nathi, I am still a virgin. And you are the first man I have ever been with. I never even dated before I married you”, I tell him.

He stops laughing and looks at me like I have just come up with a cure for something people have been searching for for years.

“You cannot be serious”, he says.

“I am”, I tell him.

He is quiet.

This is how it works actually – not just in culture but in general – women are expected to remain quality for a man while a man gets to do as he pleases all his life and then as a woman, you get what is left of him. We women are trained all our lives to be “wife material”. We are taught to fight for marriage, be strong for a man you will probably not deserve, and be grateful that some man will make an honest woman out of you. Imagine the Thandekas of the world who end up getting married to princes. Not only are you deemed to be lucky, but you practically are raised to be ideal for him; the cream of the crop – for him.

Who is training these men for the “wife material”? Who is training these men for the empowered women? The 21st century women? They could not even train them for our grandmothers. They let boys be boys and when our grandmothers were hurt and betrayed by infidelity, the “boys” were told that polygamy is okay and our grandmothers were told that they have to accept it and fight for their men.

Look at my marriage – bared to you on this blog. I preserved myself sexually and emotionally for Nkosinathi. I did not date. I read books about this wife thing. I cook like a chef. I clean like a professional. I iron like shop assistant. I have been trained all my life to be the full package; the princess – the wife to the Buthelezi prince. And my husband? I am dealing with a hooker called Pay-Pay because of him. He has had his fair share of sexual experiences. He has lived his life and now he cannot even have children. I lived my entire life shaping my experiences around deserving Nkosinathi Buthelezi, the prince. But what if he doesn’t deserve me?

“You okay?” he brings me out of my thoughts.

“Patience is arrested”, I blurt out.

“For what?” he asks me.

“Assault”, I tell him. Is he being serious right now?

“Nkosikazi, you didn’t have to get her arrested”, he tells me. I am officially pissed off. But I have to remember my position as his wife and he as the head of our family.

“Well I did”, I say.

He is silent.

“What does this girl have on you?” I ask him.

“What do you mean?” he asks me.

“Why are you so scared of her? Why do you let her treat you the way that she does? What makes you think you deserve to be with a person who thinks she has every right to treat you like bubblegum stuck under her shoe and it is okay?” me. I think I hit a nerve.

“It is not like that”, he says.

“It is. Even your father saw it”, I say.

“Baba met Patience?” he asks me, suddenly shaken.

“He saw Patience attack me when she got here. But I didn’t let her do that to me. I am not you”, I say.

The look he gives me indicates that I have crossed a line.

“Ngiyaxolisa. I didn’t mean to say that”, I say.

“Please get Patience out of prison”, he says.

The look that I give him tells him that he has crossed a line. He is not bothered.

“I am going to marry Patience. I want to marry Patience. I want her to be my second wife”, he tells me.

“Nathi, were you not dumping Patience two days ago?” I ask him. My heart is in my throat now. I cannot take what he is telling me.

“I have changed my mind. I want to marry her. I am asking you to accept her and welcome her into our family”, he says.

Yho, this guy. I honestly have no words.

[married-world-blog]

UMageba uqobo lwakhe

Nathi did not come home last night. I’m not angry but I am a bit hurt. From the day that we got into this marriage, I’ve never gone to sleep with him not being home. I feel so lonely and so confused… I’m not sure if I should make breakfast or not. He probably went home with Pay-Pay. They are probably fixing things. I’m glad I left. I have been more humiliated in my life. Nathi must never invite me to anything with his friends. I’m almost ready for class. I’m just preparing my lunchbox for the day… Gluten-free bread with lettuce, cucumber, tomato, cheese, and a burger. I pack biltong to snack with. I pack bottled water, and some mango juice. I pack my handbag and school bag and go put them in the car. As I attempt to walk out, the intercom goes off.

I answer, “Hello”

“Makoti yithi sisi. Please open”, my mother-in-law responds.

Jesu. Where am I going to say their son is? I open for them to come in. I try to dial Nathi but his phone is off. This guy mara.

His parents walk into our little townhouse. “Sawuboni makoti wami omuhle” my mother-in-law greets me. I look at them and smile. I greet them and tell them to take a seat while I make them a cup of tea. They excitedly cooperate. I notice that I’m not wearing my maxi dress or skirt and am not covering my head… that’s coz I’m on my way to school but I guess that’s none of their business. After i serve them tea, I excuse myself to go and dress up appropriately.

“Awu kahle makoti, before you go… uphi uNkosinathi?” My father-in-law enquired. I feared this question.

“Uyasabenza baba”, that’s the quickest thing I can come up with.

“Uyasebenza? Hai bo. It’s not even 7am yet. What time did he have breakfast if he is already at work?” He asks. These people are asking me difficult questions and no o e has given me a memo on how to answer these questions.

“The medicine world is very unpredictable baba'” I try again.

“There’s something that you are not telling us makoti”, baba says. I excuse myself one more time to get dressed and this time, they let me go.

I get to the bedroom and dial Nathi again. This time, the phone rings. He answers after three rings sounding very exhausted. I hear Patience in the background screaming and yelling for Nathi to hang up the phone or she will kill herself.

“Nkosikazi”, he answers his phone deflated.

“Nkosinathi your parents are here” I say.

“Shit”, he says.

“Please just get here”, I say.

“I’m on my way”, he says.

I hear Pay-Pay screaming “You are not going anywhere Nkosinathi”. I hang up. I change.

…

I am preparing a meal in the kitchen while Nathi’s parents are in the TV room waiting for Nathi as if they will beat him up with a belt the minute he walks in.

He walks in…

Shirt torn and full of blood…

Eye swollen…

Lip busted…

Pants torn…

No shoes.

Yho, bamuqhudile lo lapho ephuma khona.

I am actually worried about him. I want to help him get clean. I take a step towards him because I’m the only person he is looking at.

“Nkosinathi awusalali endlini nomkakho?” His father barks. Yho, I take a step back. Nkosinathi is silent.

“I asked you a question!” The father barks louder. “Yini le oyisebenzayo kuze kube yilesikhathi?” His mother asks. Why are they treating him like a child?

Yho, and then Nkosinathi pulls white-kid tendencies and walks out of the room while the parents are still yelling at him. His parents are shocked. Nkosinathi shuts the door. “Please excuse me” I ask his parents and then follow him into the master bedroom where he is. I walk in, close the door, and lock it.

“Did you call them?” He asks me. I guess that’s a fair question.

“No” I tell him. There is silence between us.

“You want to talk about what happened?” I ask him.

“I tried to break up with Patience an she did this to me” he says.

“Let me help you get into the shower. Let’s hear your parents out and then we can talk later”, I say. He let’s me help him undress. It is uncomfortable but he has seen me naked so now we are even. He is not even moved. He gets into the shower and I put his clothes in a bag with the intention to burn them tonight. I go get him a new outfit in the room he sleeps in. I catch his mother furiously cooking in the kitchen. I get him one of his tracksuits, underwear, and a white t-shirt. He is lotioning himself when I get back. I hand him his clothes. I want to sleep with him. Seeing him naked is foreign to me. I’ve never seen a naked man before. I look away. And then I think about the fact that his dick has been inside of Pay-Pay, and I dread the STDs he could be carrying. He gets dressed and then throws his arm around me, leading me to the TV room where his parents are now eating. Must be nice. We sit next to each other.

“Nkosinathi, you busy running around with cheap Joburg prostitutes while we found you a decent wife? Is that why she is not pregnant yet? You busy impregnating other loose skanks and hoping I’ll accept those illegitimate bastards as grandsons?” His mother. She’s got me thinking though… what if Nkosinathi has a child somewhere out there with one of the Pay-Pay’s of the world?

“Nkosinathi, kwalaphi ngane yami? Ubukhosi cannot end with the two of you. The legacy must live on. Why must you ways take years to understand your duty as inkosana yakwaButhelezi?” The dad. Nkosinathi is not even invested in this conversation. He is actually falling asleep next to me.

“Nkosinathi, ulalele or are we talking to the walls?” His mom. Now he is out. I shake him trying to wake him up, but he doesn’t respond. I dont think he is sleeping. I think he has a concussion. I ask his parents to help me get him to hospital. His dad carries him to the car and I drive to the hospital. We left his mom at home.

We get to the hospital and his dad carries him to reception. He is attended to immediately. Everyone notices and announces that its Dr.Buthelezi so the hospital jumps. I beg to come with but Dr.Moagi asks me to let them do their job. This is Khosi’s husband, Tshepo. I am comforted. He tells one of the nurses to give me water with sugar to calm me down. I sit next to baba.

An hour passes…

Another hour passes…

Khosi arrives. “Hey girl” she says as she lays her hand on my shoulder.

“Hey”, I respond. I introduce her to baba. Baba dismisses her. Wow.

“Any news?” She asks me.

“Not yet”, I say. And then I cry. I don’t know why, I just do.

Another hour passes by.

Khensani walks in with her husband and Pay-Pay. I start breathing heavily.

“What did you do?” I ask Pay-Pay.

“Uska tlong phaphela wena.” I don’t even know what she’s saying but I can feel myself lose my shit.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Now I’m loud and angry. She is quiet and scared.

“What makes you think you can talk to me?” She finally says back to me.

“Have you forgotten who you are talking to? I don’t care what you have with my husband, but his last name is next to my name. I am Nkosinathi’s wife. It is very clear to me that you are the one who has forgotten why you are talking to”, I say.

“You are his wife by some ancient arrangement. It does not give you the right to involve yourself in my relationship with Nkosinathi”, she says.

“Yaz uyamangaza. You are disrespectful like the side trash that you are, but you are so stupid. Side trashes are usually smart and they usually know their place. I don’t know what happened with you kodwa they usually know when to walk away. You did all of this because he broke up with you?” I throw their details in her face. Now we will see who knows more truth between her and I.

“We had a misunderstanding, we didn’t break up. I don’t expect you to know or understand what that feels like because your marriage is something out of a kindergarten storybook”, her.

“That’s another thing… side trash usually know the details of the marriage, the schedule of the man, and all the wife’s insecurities. Wena, zicimile nje izibani. Are you sure you were in a relationship? Or were you just scratching an itch and now he is done with you?” I say. Her silence… I feed off of it and I feel so powerful doing so.

“Yaz Patience, you have dismally failed at being the next option. You were supposed to be the one that brought back fire and fight in my marriage. But all you did was put my husband in hospital. I am disappointed, I must say. I thought that at the very least, you would have been the second wife. Kodwa ke, uhlulekile. Let him go”, I reaffirm my position. All the friends surrounding us are shocked. They are at a loss for words. They feel sorry for Pay-Pay, but nobody felt sorry for me when she bullied in front of them yesterday. Actually, they can all eat dust.

“I am not going anywhere, uNkosinathi indoda yami”, Pay-Pay informs me.

“I will tell you where you are going – to prison”, I say. The effect of this is that movie moment when a sudden tambourine sound comes out of nowhere to indicate that the game has changed, and shit can only go down from this point. Pay-Pay is now teary – shit scared. The friends – shit scared and nervous. Yes, Nkosinathi’s wife has arrived. “Nkosinathi would never let that happen”, Pay-Pay still has the balls to say to me.

“Patience, uNkosinathi is lying in some ward surrounded by medical professionals so that he can talk to us again – thanks to you. What you have done is called assault with intent to cause grievous harm. There are probably more legal terms to describe what you have done but when I get a lawyer, they will fill me in on those terms, and that will get you a good four or five years in jail – AT LEAST. Nkosinathi cannot protect, he couldn’t even protect himself. Guess who will be making that decision in his behalf? His wife… Mrs Buthelezi. Yim lo!” I say as I point at myself. I continue, “The doctors will bring me results that explain the extent of the damage that you have caused to my husband, and then we will throw you in a cell with all the other animals that are just like you… and then we call it even”, I conclude. I am probably bull-shitting my way through law right now but she is so scared, she does not challenge one thing that I am saying. Khosi rubs my back, I assume trying to calm me down.

“Patience, do not mistaken my kindness and calmness for stupidity. I may be a lady, but I am still a Zulu woman. NginguMageba uqobo lwakhe. And if that means nothing to you, go watch a re-run of Shaka Zulu and you will be able to see the kind of blood that runs in my veins. Do not test me. Uzobona unyoko”, I conclude. Dr Moagi finally comes out of wherever he disappeared to. He is also taken aback by the scene before him. I look at him. He is not sure who to address.

“Yes doctor”, I grab his attention.

“Can we speak in private?” he requests. I call baba who has been on the phone with mama, and we disappear with Dr Moagi, leaving behind Pay-Pay and the crew.

“He is going to be okay. There was some slight hit on his brain and that is why it was taking so long for us to work on him. But I will have to keep him here for a few days”, he says.

“Thank you. Can I see him?” Me.

“Yes, but before you do…” Dr Moagi. Baba and I look at each other. “We have to report what happened to the police as an assault case”, he says.

“Then do it”, I say.

“Thandeka, he loves Patience. He will never be okay with her going to jail”, he tells me.

“Nayi ingulube yasinonela bo. Uzokhuluma ngothando likmakhwapeni kwinkosikazi yendodana yami? Iphi inhlonipho wena mfana? Uyasangana yini?” Baba barks. Thank you baba, I thought I was the only one who picked up something wrong with that statement.

“Baba, ngenkulu inhlonipho…” Dr Moagi tries but baba cuts him saying “Vala loyo mlomo wakho sdididi sendoda ndini. Yiko ingane iyisiyoyoyo kangaka. He keeps iziyoyoyo as friends. Uyathanda wena ukuthi lo mngani wakho othi uyam’thanda ashayiwe umfazi? Umagosha nje waseGoli? Bophisa le ngane uhlukane nathi wena. Futhi suka endleleni yethu. Asambe makoti”, baba pushes Dr Moagi out of the way and we make our way out. I stop, turn around, look at him and say, “If you do not do your job, I will not only report her to law enforcement myself, but I will also report you to the powers that be for failing to carry out an instruction as instructed by law and policies in medicine”.

[married-world-blog]

Patience

Thank you very much to each and everyone of you for your love and support. Please keep reading, and keep interacting with my posts. I see all your posts. They all move me. Thank you. Please note that I post everyday except Sundays. I post by 10am. I hope you enjoy today’s reading too.

I came back from school early today. My last lecture ended at 11H00 so I drove straight home. I wasted a good two hours on YouTube and Instagram. Then I got dinner started so that I could dedicate the late afternoon and evening studying and doing tutorials and assignments. While I cook, I watch Isibaya on catch up. It reminds me of home in a weird way. I miss the simple life. Even this marriage thing with Nathi would be a lot easier if we were back home.

There is this love journey series that the girls in my lecture were going on about today. I guess, I can catch an episode or two while I wait for dinner to cook to a completion. These stories are very sweet and sincere. And it really is beautiful what Mpoomy and Brenden Ledwaba are doing. When love has worked out for the better for you, it is beautiful to share with the world that love is not lost at all. Those of you who still have the chance and the choice should definitely fight for love: it is the closest thing we all have to magic… and it is the one thing that the whole world has in common.

My pots are done.

I have a 30 minute session in my gym and then take a shower. I walk out of the bathroom naked, unaware that Nathi is back home. But what is he doing in my room. I scream when I see him see me naked. He leaves the room immediately. I am so uncomfortable. I do not even know if I will be able to ever look at him again. I get dressed and decide to let him dish for himself and dine alone. I pull out a laptop and spread all my exam pads and textbooks across the bed. I start working.

***knock on the door***

It is him. I know it is him. He is the only one that I live with in this house anyway. He opens the door without me even saying come in. He stands at the door.

“I am sorry about…” he cannot finish his sentence.

“It is okay. We can forget it ever happened”, I say.

“For what it’s worth, you have a beautiful temple”, he says. I shall not dignify that with an answer.

“I thought I would go and pour you some petrol… fill up your tank perhaps”, he says. Yes, he does do nice things like that for me. He understands that I don’t work. I have zero funds next to my name.

“Thanks. The key is in the TV room”, I say.

“I was hoping that maybe we could drive there together”, he says.

“I am working Nathi, maybe next time”, I tell him. He nods his head and closes the door, leaving me in my room.

I push my work as much and as far as possible. I did not even hear him come back.

…

I am woken up by the smell of pancakes. I wake up, cover myself in a robe, and follow the smell of pancakes to my kitchen. Nathi is making us breakfast. Lovely. I smile.

“You have a beautiful smile, you know that?” he tells me.

“Ngiyabonga”, I reply.

“Sawubona Mageba”, he greets me.

“Sawubona. Ukahle?” Me.

“Yebo. What’s your day looking like today? I know you don’t have class on Tuesdays”, he says.

“I was just planning on studying really, nothing special.” My response.

“Can I take you out?” He asks. I look at him.

“Do you have a crush on me husband?” I coy around with him. He laughs.

“We are going out as friends. We are friends right wifey?” He reaffirms my position in his life. I smile and nod.

…

I am done bathing. This is my first time going anywhere nice with my husband so I dress up. I wear blue jeans (safest bet when you don’t know where you are going), a black simple Cotton On t-shirt, and black block heels. I tie up my thin twist braids into a high ponytail. I do my make-up; simple but elegant and slightly playful. I have played around with the natural look and a hint of pink, and added red Revlon gloss as opposed to lipstick. I don’t have a wedding ring neither does he have a wedding band so my hands are accessorised by a dress ring and a wrist watch. I finish off my look with Truworths diamante studs.

I walk out of the bedroom and find him downing whiskey. He stares at me. I knew I would have this effect on him. He looks handsome too. Nkosinathi is a fine breed of Pallance Dladla and Siyabonga Twala: very handsome, very stern, not approachable, and very Zulu. He is always dressed in Nike tracksuits. But today, he is wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans, with trainers. I think he is far more rural than I am.

He hugs me for the first time – EVER! It feels nice.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“A friend and colleague of mine in Sunninghill is hosting a few of us. I thought I’d bring my wife for a change”, he says.

“Thank you. That is very thoughtful of you”, I tell him.

We use his black E-Class Mercedes Benz.

…

His friends are typical Joburg people: loud and inappropriate. They call it being chilled, I call it not knowing your place. I have been called “Sweetheart” by at least three men that I do not know. And two men called me “Babe” in front of Nkosinathi. He did not seem to have an issue with that. I wonder if he calls other people’s wives ‘babe’ and ‘sweetheart’. I make my way to the kitchen where I find five women sitting together. I am the only one wearing heels.

“Wine?” One woman offers me while the rest stare at me like I am some alien carrying a disease from space. I have never really had alcohol before. I am not sure if this is a good place for it to be my first time.

“Just water, please”, I respond with a smile on my face. She turns around and pulls out a bottle of still water from her fridge. She walks up to me and hands me the bottle.

“You must be Thandeka, Nkosinathi’s wife”, she says. I smile.

“I am Khosi, Tshepo’s wife”, she introduces herself. Tshepo is one of the men who called me Sweetheart.

“Lovely meeting you Khosi”, I say.

“Please, join us”, Khosi says.

I follow her to the kitchen where everyone else is sitting. Khosi introduces me to the other four women: Naomi, Mpho, Lungi, and Khensani. Khensani is the most cold towards me. She excuses herself from the room and heads in a direction neither the men nor us are sitting. I decide to follow her. She does not see me follow her. I told the other women that I am headed to the toilet.

I stand at the door of the room she is in. My intention was to ask her if we have perhaps met before for her to not like me already. It is a bit rude and arrogant to just not like someone after meeting them only once. Or is this the rural girl in me brewing unnecessarily.

“Pay-Pay, she is so beautiful friend”, Khensani says.

“Friend, is she prettier than me?” Pay-Pay responds. She is on speaker.

“Chomi, nkari keEva Longoria motho ole. She has the most beautiful skin I have ever seen. Nkari uhlapa ka lebisi. She almost looks coloured my friend. Her body… yho yho yho… ke lepakistan chomi yaka… fit I tell you and curved in all the right places. Friend, she is beautiful. Nathi has a gorgeous wife. He is not leaving Miss Exotic and Gorgeous for your basic ass. She may be a plaas jappie, but she looks nothing like one”, Khensani says. I don’t know what she was saying half of the time, but I heard her say that I am beautiful.

“Friend, I am on my way”, Pay-Pay says. This must be Patience. I recognise the voice. “Come get your man girl. Extra measures must be taken with this one”, Khensani encourages her. I walk back to the kitchen. Nathi and Tshepo walk in. Khensani walks in too.

“I thought I’d come and check if you are treating my beautiful wife okay”, Nathi says. He doesn’t touch me or anything, just nice words as per usual.

“She is very quiet. But I hope she is enjoying our company”, Khosi says.

“I am just feeling a bit tired. I was thinking maybe I should uber home and not spoil the party”, I say.

No one trained me for this part of my marriage where I will be confronted by Pay-Pay because of my husband.

“Did we do something to offend you?” Naomi asks.

“No not at all. I am just not up to this vibe”, I say. Everyone looks at me as if I have offended them. I really just want to sprint out of here before she who is on her way gets here. “T, what’s going on?” Nathi, equally confused.

“We will talk later when you get home okay? Just enjoy the party for now.” I say. As I walk out, a woman walks in looking like a prostitute. She has red hair, is darker than dark, and is wearing a black short and tight dress with hooker heels.

“Dumelang ba le lapa”, she yells. Everyone looks at me. It is now connecting in their heads why I have been in such a rush to leave. I feel so embarrassed and at the same time, so cornered.

“Nisaleni kahle. It was lovely meeting you all”, I say.

I attempt to walk out and Pay-Pay stops me. “Dumela Mrs Buthelezi”, she says to me. I feel so small. I look at Nathi. He is upset. He walks towards us and holds my lower back, leading me outside.

“Nkosinathi, you going to act like you don’t know who I am now?” Pay-Pay challenges Nathi. I cannot believe Nkosinathi ejaculates on that thing every day.

“Patience, you are drunk, go home”, Nathi says.

“But Nathi you are my home. Thandeka is an arrangement – you said so yourself. I am the one that you love”, she says.

As true as that is, it still hurts to hear… especially from Patience.

“It’s okay, you can stay. Be with her and make sure she gets home safely. I will be okay”, I tell Nathi. “I am going home with you”, he says.

“Nathi, this woman is in your life. And now you are forcing her into mine and I would rather not have her in my life. I enjoy my peace. If you no longer want her in your life, then end things with her. But don’t treat her this way in a room full of people when you are the one who brought her into everyone’s lives. Deal with the mess that you have created”, I say.

With this, I walk out and not look back at all.

[married-world-blog]

The Beginning...

I am three weeks behind with this assignment. I have honestly been struggling with it, to tell you the truth. The assignment is that we find a story worth telling about our lives and find a way to brand it. There is absolutely nothing interesting about my life and this is why I had no idea where to start.

  If you come across this blog, please refer it to your friends. It is an assignment and I need the marks. I need to graduate and be something a whole lot more than just a wife who is expected to have a baby sometime soon.

  I thought about blogging about my new found love for the pain of exercising, but that wouldn’t really be the beginning. I thought about blogging about my dreams, but everyone in my class is doing that. I have been following each of their blogs and they all kind of look the same: it is becoming boring actually.

So perhaps, an introduction will do and then we will see where that leads us.

  Disclaimer:

The names used in this blog are not real. In the spirit of protecting mine and my family’s identity, I would like to just blog and not have any added vested interest in my life that is beyond what I am willing to share. Your respect and understanding is highly appreciated J

  My name is Thandeka Buthelezi. I was Thandeka Zulu before I met my husband, Nkosinathi Buthelezi. My husband is from a royal family in KZN, eShowe. I am from a royal family in KZN, eMnambithi. When one is born from a family that prides itself in being difficult and not leaving you with much choice when it comes to your life, you get used to not having dreams of your own because somewhere along the line, you will suffer the chest pains of having to alter your dreams to accommodate expectation.

I matriculated at the age of 16. I was in boarding school in Maritzburg from grade one. At 17, I went to university, UKZN to study public relations. I do not know why. I have always been a good writer and a good image consultant; that is how I made some extra money in boarding school. My teachers always said that I would make a good journalist or a great PR. I heard “great PR” and chose that over being a “good” journalist. I was good at PR. But still, I was very careful not to date anyone. To date someone would mean to start investing into something that would have to be altered to accommodate expectations. I did not even have many friends. I was friendly with many people but I did not have any friends. I was the only child to Lindiwe and Tom Zulu. What they had in store for me was not up for negotiation. And honestly, I never had it in me to disappoint them.

  I did good by making this decision because at 18, I came home for the school holidays and my dad returned from a business trip to tell me that it was time that I met my husband. Even though I knew that this day was coming, it still shook me. I was scared. I had a matric. I had one year left to get a degree and my dad would not even let me finish that. He told me on a Tuesday, that on the Saturday, my lobola negotiations would begin. I spent two weeks preparing for my umembeso and umabo. My dad sent his workers to go and fetch my stuff in res at UKZN because I was not going back. My very being got lost in the ululating and singing of my wedding. Everything else that happened is still a blur. But I have pictures to jog down a memory or two. I don’t like looking at my wedding pictures though… I look so young, naïve and unknowing of what will be.

After the umabo, my husband had to come back to Joburg and he brought me back with him. I knew that he did not want me so I was not even going to throw myself at him in the slightest bit. He is a medical physician: Dr N.N. Buthelezi. Good for him. He moved me in with him in a 3 bedroom townhouse in Paulshoff. He let me have the master bedroom and he sleeps in one of the other rooms. I know that he has a girlfriend and I am preparing myself for the day he tells me that he will make her his second wife. All I asked of him was to go to school. I told him that I will still cook and clean for him. I will be the wife that I am expected to be. I just need to go to school. I even told him that I would apply for bursaries. He told me that it is okay, he will pay for me to go school. He listened to what I would be interested in studying and I told him my interests. He said I should go to VEGA. He said they have the best programmes for my kind of interests. So here I am, credited and in my third year of Brand Management. Last week, he bought me car to drive to school with. He told me that an uber was not safe. He bought me a white Mercedes Benz A250. I think he did it because my dad asked him how he was treating me and he lied and said we were good. We are not good, we are the same as we were two years ago when we first got married. He is my housemate. I am still a virgin. And every time we go home, I am always asked when I am having a baby. Holy Spirit please intervene.

…

I have started taking care of myself. I enjoy running now. I am a reality-show junkie. And these women whose lives I follow out of interest of how one makes millions out of just living one’s life on camera, I have developed a crush on exercise. I asked Nathi to turn the extra room into a gym and he let me. I gym in there when I cannot hit the road and run, but sometimes, running is the only way I get to just get out of the house.

So I went for my run today. My body has become more in shape then when I started so I have confidence in running in tight gym clothes. At home, I gym in a sports bra and workout tight or workout leggings. I get home and take a shower. I get breakfast started while still wrapped in a towel. I bought some make-up and I am about to watch a Seenqo or Mihlali youtube make-up video to help me apply it. But first, ubaba wasekhaya must eat. My thin twist braids are tied up into a bun. A yellow towel is wrapped around my body, and I have my slipper flip flops on.

  “Hey”, he says as he walks into the kitchen. Nathi and I are generally nice to one another. The chemistry is just not there.

“Good morning”, I reply. Please note that on our wedding night when the elders locked us up in his rondel, he let me sleep on the bed while he slept on the floor. And this is what we do every time we go visit our parents.    

He stares at me while I dish up for him. It is a stare that he has never really given me since we got married.

“Ukahle?” I ask him.

“Hai cha, ngiyaphila ntokazi. Ukuthi nje, ngifuna ukuk’tshela ukuthi umuhle”, he says. He tells me that I am pretty every day. And just like I respond to all the compliments he gives me about my food, my looks, and my manners, I say “Ngiyabonga”.

I walk out of the kitchen. He gently holds my wrist and says, “Please join me for breakfast today”. I am shocked. We have never had meals together unless we are in KZN. He sees my shock.

“Please”, he insists.

I dish up for myself and sit across him. I start eating.

“Everything okay?” I ask him. I have lived with him long enough to know that he is not okay.

He shrugs his shoulders.

“Is it Patience?” I ask him. His eyes almost pop out of his eye-socket.

“Come on Nathi. It’s not like we are in love. We can at least be friends right? This life of ours is almost un-relatable to a lot of people and it is difficult to talk about. So at the very least, we can talk to each other about it right?” I try again.

“It just feels weird talking about my girlfriend with my wife”, he says.

“Then you should tell her to stop writing you letters and putting them in your lunchbox. She knows I make your lunchbox so she clearly wants me to know her and about her”, I say.

He looks at me – speechless.

“Nathi, chill. I am good.” I say.

He chuckles.

“You really are something else Mrs Buthelezi”, he says.

I smile.

“So? What’s up?” I ask.

“Patience wants her and I to get married. Last night, we went out with friends and colleagues, she went down on one knee and asked me to marry her”, he tells me.

I keep eating my food like what he is telling me means nothing to me. But in all honesty, this Patience girl is disrespecting me. She is showing me that she will never respect me like I respect her – enough to not shake things up for her and Nathi. I just stay away. But her type doesn’t scare me. I hope Nathi said yes so that her ass can be taken to eShowe and my in-laws can deal with her and show her the position of the second wife.

“So what did you say?” I ask him, drinking my juice.

“I walked out”, he says.

“Do you want to marry her?” I ask him.

“I used to think that I do, but honestly, there are little things about her that make me realise that she will never be a good wife. Some women make good girlfriends, but they would never make good wives”, he says.

“Not everyone is trained like us for marriage Nathi. You need to be fair. Not every parent births a child for marriage like our parents did”, I tell him.

“It’s not about the training. It is the basic respect for the next person. With respect, everything else grows and can be fixed or groomed. Patience is not a respectful woman. She is into status and she treats people according to their status or positions in life. It is a genuine turn-off”, he says.

I did say I know her type. There are squads of them on social media.

“How are they different to our parents? Our parents thought we were suited for each other because of our positions right? Would they have let you marry a woman who was not from a royal home? Would my parents have let me marry a regular Joe? No. It is human to recognise position before heart. We are no better than her”, I say.

“Do you actually want me to marry Patience?” He asks me.

“I don’t care what you do with Patience. I just want you to be honest enough to say that you are just simply not into her. Making up excuses for your feelings will drive you crazy. If the butterflies are not there, don’t force them and don’t try to make it seem like it’s on her. Patience has probably always been like this since the day you met her. What is making it an issue now? How are you different from the women who believe they can change a man after marriage? Just own your truth”, I say.

He is quiet.

  The intercom goes off. Nathi stands up and gets it while I continue eating.

“Nathi, open the gate we need to talk”, a woman demands.

“Patience, my wife is home. What are you doing here?” Nathi calmly says. I am glad to know that when he talks about me, I am referred to as “my wife”.

“Nathi, I said open this damn gate. Don’t tell me about that village bitch”, she says.

I stop eating. I look at Nathi. He looks at me. He turns off the intercom.

“Nathi, I don’t ask you for much. But I will ask that isthunzi sami sihlonishwe. Don’t bring your girlfriends here”, I say.

I walk into my bedroom to get dressed.

  Good morning bloggers.