His Helper

20

December bustled with activity as preparations kicked off. I dreaded leaving Aunt Aubrey's side during this time, knowing she had to manage everything in the shop. With the holiday rush, customers flooded in, placing orders for various celebrations. I pitched in during the weekdays, ensuring everything ran smoothly, but eagerly awaited Fridays to head home.

The second week brought a pivotal moment as my uncles convened with my sisters and me to discuss lobola negotiations. Then, the third weekend arrived, amidst a flurry of activity as the Makinanas prepared to pay the lobola. The meeting with my family proved fruitful, although I had to assert myself on certain matters. I insisted that we not demand extra money, especially since he had approached me about marriage before consulting the elders.

Times had changed, and I stressed that I didn't want us to appear exploitative, despite their list outlining contributions like my education. There was one crucial point I needed to emphasize—I wasn't marrying him for his wealth or his Johannesburg roots, which held significant sway in their eyes. I married him for love, disregarding his bank balance or societal status.

They knew little about him, and even less about me. If they knew of my aspirations to become a renowned author, they might have demanded a hefty sum from the Makinanas. But for now, that remained my secret, tucked away from their calculations and expectations.

Anele's plan to propose deviated from the conventional, aiming to make it uniquely memorable for me as an aspiring writer. However, as he knelt in the empty living area, the unexpected happened when he concluded his speech. "Wrong," I interjected. Confused, after realising what I was on about he confirmed that he had sought approval from his family, his children, yet I challenged him to include them in his proposal.

Amidst laughter, I instructed him to say, "Will you marry us" With a smile, he adjusted, asking, "Will you marry us, maMtshawe omhle?" Blushing, I replied, "I will marry all of you, Mthimkhulu." Our embrace marked the beginning of a new chapter, echoed by the cheers of the kids.

Lobola negotiations unfolded smoothly, with Anele paying a reasonable price. Lunch brought both families together. Despite attempts to assist, I was kept away, deemed to save myself for future in-law cooking duties. Anele's Christmas revelation about wanting me to join his family post-negotiations emphasized the clash between tradition and my desire for a bright, unscripted future. Even the challenge to wear a black doek was met with resistance, as I insisted on a future filled with light, not darkness. The Makinanas called Anele's mother, and upon hearing my perspective, she supported my choice, paving the way for a wedding that aligned with my dreams.

Later, outside, as we tried to steal a moment, everyone including the kids ensured our privacy remained elusive. Though unconventional, I cherished the anticipation of saving intimacy for our wedding day, a dream I held since childhood.

Christmas morning was spent at church with my siblings and nephews, followed by a festive lunch. As we delved into wedding preparations, I focused on coordinating details for my family – organizing taxis to King Williams Town for the traditional wedding, selecting presents for the in-laws, and overseeing the arrangements for the bridal party. With these tasks in motion, I left other aspects to be handled jointly by Anele and me, the groom and bride-to-be.

Anele, the groom-to-be, exuded excitement about every aspect of the wedding preparations, a stark contrast to what I had heard about men with prior marriage experiences. It made me wonder if he had been less involved in his previous wedding arrangements. Despite my initial concerns about men with children not being as engaged in creating a new family, Anele shattered those stereotypes. He eagerly anticipated every step, showcasing his desire to share these experiences with me and not let the past overshadow our joy. The enthusiasm extended to his children, who wanted to be actively involved in every aspect of our journey.

However, much of my day was consumed by a lengthy phone call with Anele. He expressed a desire for us to have the traditional wedding first, wishing I could be with his family already. I chuckled, mentioning my sisters needing me too, and shared how we discussed wedding plans.

Anele described the cultural events he attended, like iMigidi, where boys returned from initiation school. He had missed such events and soon he was soaked in the traditional events, even witnessing a singing event at the lighthouse.

Liyema, not so excited about his future initiation, wasn't keen on discussing details with his dad. Liyema's primary concern was schooling; he aimed to pass and conclude his high school journey. Unlike many other teenage boys, he wasn't drawn to typical interests. Despite his reserved nature, he opened up to me through our texts, sharing his thoughts and concerns long before his father became aware of our communication.

I felt I'd offer advice once I became Anele's wife, with guidance from my mother-in-law. Uncertain if I would be given the Izibazana role as a stepmother, I pondered whether Nosakhele might take on the responsibility, considering she had been in Liyema's life longer. Despite her being his grandmother, I didn't mind, embracing the idea with understanding and openness.

Choosing a wedding date remained unresolved, and Anele's apparent urgency concerned me. I wondered about plans, especially since he purchased a house where I lived, but details remained unexplored. I envisioned holidays together, considering the kids were still attending Sterling High. The thought of a potentially lonely life loomed as I thought of the leaving me alone in the big house after the wedding. Imagining solitude in those vast spaces, I considered that I would have had to return to live with Aunt Aubrey before the silence became overwhelming.

Despite the impending joy of marriage, my mind was preoccupied. Anele's haste worried me, and I couldn't fully relish the moment with concerns about the shop. Aunt Aubrey, my business partner, struggled with the bookkeeping system. While she could handle banking transactions, my physical presence seemed necessary to navigate the intricacies.

Returning to Port Alfred after Christmas, I found Aunt Aubrey absent as she was at her son's house. After settling my bags upstairs, I decided to cook a meal, having left home early without a car for a hoped-for airport hitchhike. Pap and beef liver simmered in the kitchen, and as I sat by the window overlooking the neighborhood, reflective thoughts flooded in. Who could have imagined I'd soon be married, co-owner of a thriving bakery, promoting literature and the joy of reading?

A smile graced my face as I gazed at the clear sky. "Only you, only you know," I whispered a silent prayer of gratitude to the Lord, thanking Him for transforming what others might have deemed of little value into something precious, much like a diamond.

By noon, I delved into bookkeeping, ensuring smooth operations in my absence meticulously overseeing daily reports, managing cash transactions spanning four days, meticulously checking inventory levels, and scrutinizing emails to ensure our orders were impeccably aligned with the vendors.

Afterward, I shifted my focus to submitting manuscripts to various publishing companies – a routine I diligently followed whenever an opportunity arose. The timing and manner of my breakthrough weren't within my control but rested in the hands of the Lord. All I could do was faithfully cultivate the field assigned to me, trusting that if I held firm in my faith and belief in His word, He would manifest His presence and showcase His wonders in due time.

An idea sparked as I noticed an envelope on my desk – a story about a lost letter rescued by a young lady fresh out of graduation, embarking on a summer job. The narrative unfolded, intertwining the threads of gratitude, unexpected blessings, and the creative spark that emerged from the ordinary moments of life.