MATHONGA

Chapter 87

VUMILE- 

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Ntabezikude has always been the unruly child, but not once did he think he would live to see the day his son turn into a monster. This is what he calls him in secret, where no one can hear him, not even his beloved Nandi. 

On the outside Vumile looks like a retired pensioner, but on the inside he’s falling apart. His family is not complete, his sons are his life. He has tried over the months to fix what he broke. He’s seen the damage his ignorance has done, a grown man should be able to differentiate between right and wrong and Vumile has done just that. 

Life with Nandi is slowly picking up, the house feels empty without his sons though. 

Vukuzakhe has found a home in Durban, Hlabela is somewhere around the world. Ntabezikude is in prison, Ndleleni moved out too and Mathonga is god-knows where. 

“You’re deep in thought Ngwane,” Nandi’s warm voice saves him from his thoughts. He blinks and averts his gaze to her, it’s a hot afternoon yet the oldies are enjoying each other’s company over cups of hot steaming tea. 

“What’s on your mind?” Nandi continues as she shifts closer to him as if he will need a shoulder to cry on. 

“Do you think they will ever come back home?” Nandi is aware he is talking about his sons, it’s all he ever talks about. Sometimes she is convinced that he has an obsession over them. 

“This is their home, it’s where they were born. There is no place like home.” Will they ever come home was the question. 

“It’s been too long,” he speaks like a man who will die if they don’t return. 

Nandi sighs heavily, she’s tired of convincing him as if he is a child that needs constant reassurance. 

“We spoke about this Ngwane, they are grown men.” 

Maybe his head is too thick, that’s why he’s not getting it. Vumile takes a sip from his mug and heaves a sigh, Nandi’s words of comfort are not helping. 

She decides to let him be and focus on her own tea before it gets cold, she takes the plate filled Marie biscuits and offers it to Vumile. 

“I’m fine MaShamase,” he goes for an appreciative smile. 

“Baba,” his heart stops at the sound of Hlabela’s voice. At first he thinks he’s imagining things, imagining Hlabela standing in the middle of his living room. His mouth pops a smidgeon, he drops the mug on the table with a loud clang, spilling the tea Nandi made with love. 

“Hlabela?” His long legs bring him up. “Ndodana, you’re home?” 

The great Vumile sheds tears, he wants to go for a hug but Hlabela drops down on his knees. Beside him is an Indian woman, there’s something affectionate in how he’s holding her hand. 

“I’m sorry for taking your sons from you baba,” takes a real man to admit he was wrong. “I was young and…” 

Vumile raises his hand, gesturing that he stops. Hlabela must be reading it wrong because he drops his head in shame, the woman beside him squeezes his hand. 

“I know what happened son and I do not hold it against you.” Vumile. 

Relieved, Hlabela lifts his head to look at his father who is contently smiling at him. Vumile tells him to get up and hugs him, it feels absolutely amazing to have one of his sons home.