His Helper

26

Two years after the bakery underwent a successful revamp, achieving remarkable success, Aunt Aubrey and I were genuinely delighted. As we sat down with her son, reviewing the books and making reports on our progress, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. However, I still kept my idea close to my chest, wanting to work on it independently before sharing it, understanding that dreams require effort to transform into reality.

As the end of November approached, a busy season awaited me as my son Liyema was set to undergo initiation school in King Williams Town. Filled with both excitement and anxiety, I embarked on a week of fasting, entrusting my son's well-being to the Almighty. Anele, Liyema, and his father left for undisclosed rituals, respecting my request not to involve me in those practices.

The week unfolded with the arrival of various family members, cousins, and relatives from Anele's side. Sandra, pregnant again, provided a comforting presence. Despite familial support, a particular cousin seemed determined to criticize my every action. Choosing to cook indoors for the family, I faced disapproval for not participating in the communal outdoor cooking. While tempted to confront the cousin, I refrained, guided by the Holy Spirit.

During that week in King Williams Town, I dedicated my mornings to cleaning and cooking, occasionally checking on Mama, my mother-in-law, who was actively engaged with other women. She encouraged me to sit beside her, emphasizing the importance of learning the roles and responsibilities of women during such events. The family dynamics and cultural practices unfolded as I navigated through this significant period.

Choosing not to take on the responsibility of being Izibazane was a conscious decision on my part. I didn't want to engage in practices I wasn't familiar with. However, I had made a promise to take care of my son's meals, and considering Mama's busy schedule, I realized it was a significant responsibility. Balancing cultural expectations and personal choices became a delicate.

Anele, occupied with his responsibilities, and I only connected during the night and morning, as my children clung to their big brother, anticipating the upcoming separation.

Friday arrived, marking the moment for Liyema to embark on his journey to initiation school. Throughout the day, I noticed him spending much time alone in the room he shared with Nelisa. Curious about his mood, I knocked on his door. He welcomed me in, holding his phone, which unexpectedly played one of the recorded prayers I often share with loved ones. This was the confirmation I needed. Without asking, we both knelt down in prayer, finding solace in the knowledge that he would remember to seek the Lord's guidance and protection during this significant time. A soft knock interrupted our prayer, but the visitor didn't say a word, respecting the sacred moment.

It was Anele who interrupted our prayer, wearing a smile as we rose from our knees. He informed us that Liyema was need outside, signaling that I wouldn't be able to remain close to Liyema. I hugged my son tightly before he departed, leaving me alone with Anele. He sensed my anxiety and gently reminded me not to cry, assuring me of Liyema's safe return. Concerned about Akha's demeanor, he asked me to uplift her spirits.

Despite the solemn moment, Anele lightened the mood with his humour, joking about his busy schedule and the scent of alcohol lingering on him from a sneaky drink. He kissed me before heading out, aware that his little deception about drinking would alter my mood, given my aversion to alcohol.

After comforting Akha and shifting her mood, I suggested that we join the festivities outside, embracing the celebrations and dispelling any concerns about Liyema. We decided to learn the art of ululating and the umtyityimbo dance. Laughing together, we ventured out to join the vibrant scene. The air resonated with the sounds of women beating an iron Zink, creating the energetic ingqongqo rhythm. Meanwhile, the men, including Liyema cloaked in a blanket, set off for the mountain, their voices blending in a harmonious song.

As the night unfolded, the men returned from the mountain, showing signs of a successful initiation journey. The celebration continued with heightened spirits, and my husband ensured there was an abundance of drinks for everyone. As the atmosphere buzzed with joy, I found solace in the kitchen, preparing food for my family and the guests who had gathered for the festivities.

Later in the evening, around seven, Unathi and I retreated to my room. While people continued reveling, we chose a different path, watching an inspiring message from Priscilla Shirer. Our conversation delved into future plans—Unathi aspiring to intern in Cape Town for her chartered accountancy journey, and I unveiling my dream of expanding the bakery into a second store with a focus on books. The idea excited Unathi, and I felt grateful to share my aspirations with someone. Sandra joined us, turning the night into a relaxed session of chatting and reminiscing about past events.

Mama came to bid us goodnight, assuring me that Anele would follow shortly. However, he was occupied helping his father inside due to his inebriation. Left alone in the room, waiting for Anele, I decided to seek him out. I found him outside engaged in a quiet conversation with some women, one of whom Sandra introduced as an aunt from Liyema's mother's side.

This woman exuded elegance, appearing as though she lived a life of luxury with her expensive cars and demeanor. Her words, however, cut deep as she questioned Anele's decision to leave a successful life in Johannesburg to "play house" when they both had thriving careers. Despite the provocation, I remained composed, silently praying for strength as I overheard their conversation.

Anele attempted to quiet her, mindful of the intoxicated revelers around us. She persisted, expressing regret that they weren't together, hinting at a past connection. Joining them, I maintained my composure, resisting the urge to confront her. Instead, I greeted them with a smile, though it was clear she was perturbed by my presence.

As she walked away, I chose not to escalate the situation, trusting in the Lord to guide me through. With a serene demeanor, I took Anele's hand, leading him inside. I was untroubled by potential gossip, secure in the trust between us. Our impending conversation was a testament to our mutual understanding, regardless of any external perceptions.

"I'll have a bath; you go after I'm done," I told Anele before leaving him sitting on the bed, appearing contemplative. Moving to the other side of the room, I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the conversation ahead. Submerging into the tub, I allowed my thoughts to wander for what felt like an hour, grappling with the hope that what I overheard wasn't true and seeking clarification from Anele.

After a while, there was a knock on the door. Emerging from the bath, I draped myself in a towel and then a bathrobe before answering. Anele's gaze seemed searching, perhaps anticipating tears, but I wasn't crying. While I felt a tinge of anger and betrayal due to his silence about this woman, the hurt wasn't as profound. As he went to bathe, I sat on the bed, applying lotion, contemplating the sudden reappearance of this woman. If she truly cared for him, where was she during the challenging times after he lost his wife, when he had to focus on work and overlook his children's needs? Her newfound interest raised questions about her absence when her support could have made a significant difference.

As Anele joined me in bed, I feigned sleep, turning my back to him. I sensed the bed sinking as he lay beside me, his breathing slightly uneasy. After switching off the light, I felt him pull me towards him as he settled behind me. The first words he uttered were "I'm sorry". Though he couldn't articulate the details, he acknowledged it was a mistake and happened during a challenging time of grief. It only occurred once, he admitted.

In the darkness, I listened without reacting, letting him continue. He revealed that the woman suggested marriage afterward, but he declined. Instead, she contemplated a legal battle that never materialised. As he spoke, I wondered about her true intentions and what led to such a situation during a vulnerable period.

"She still wants you," I finally remarked, keeping my response minimal. He confirmed that he had no interest in her and was merely trying to avoid her drama. Pressing a bit more, I inquired if he invited her to which he disclosed that his cousin Nomphelo was the one who extended the invitation. The revelation didn't surprise me; Nomphelo had exhibited a less-than-friendly attitude towards me before.