KGOMOTSO: HIS FIRST

Chapter 1

JANUARY, 2006

The bags have been packed. Literally my entire wardrobe has been cleared.

"Motso!" My mother calls from afar. I was just studying my room. Thinking about how different this house will be without me.

My mother will hate to admit it, but she'll definitely miss me. She likes talking about how happy she'd be if I left her house, but I wouldn't be offended because I always knew deep down she never meant it. No mother would want her child leaving her just like that. If anything she'd be heartbroken right? My mother walked into the room, finding me deep within my thoughts, staring at the grey walls of my room with my hands on my waist.

Mama: "We're all waiting for you in the living room. What are you doing that's taking so long?"

I couldn't think of an answer so I just kept quiet. She gives me a look. She looks very concerned.

Mama: "You know, this house won't be the same without you. Even though you give me trouble and grey hairs." I laugh.

Just the words I needed to hear. I sigh as I stretch my right arm to reach mother's shoulders. Either she's short or I'm growing taller.

Mama: "Are you ready?"

Kgomotso: "Yah."

Mama: "Okay then, let's get going then."

A whole 4-hour ride and my body is already exhausted. We left at midnight so we could get to Saint Matthews or whatever the heck that school's name was. Oksalayo I was going to that school. The fact that I got a scholarship from this school is such an achievement. It's not everyday you hear a person get a scholarship to such a fancy school like this one, man. Especially from a province like Limpopo. I'm just saying.

The air is different here. It's a bit chilly here, or maybe it's just my shivers. I shiver a lot when I'm nervous. As I was travelling, a bunch of thoughts came to mind. What if there will be these mean girls making fun of me? What if I'll never fit in because I'm not rich? This school is based in the suburbs of Sandton so there will obviously be rich people. Some may be humble. Probably ten percent of them are humble, but the rest? The ninety percent of those rich brats? Let me not even go there.

___________

After that whole 90-minute boring welcome speech from the headmistress, it was time to say goodbye to my family. I let out a long sigh. Reality started sinking in. I'm going to be away from my family for a whole 4 years, or even a lifetime depending on where life takes me. Is this really my life? My family living 6 hours away in a different province?

Papa: "Kgomotso!"

A distraction from my sad intrusive thoughts. Obviously Mr Mashaba wouldn't leave me without taking photos. It's the 'Mashaba way of life' as my cousin Mahlodi likes saying. We took a few photos. There were only 5 of the 13 pictures that were taken that I liked. My father looked at me, looked back at his camera and then looked back at me. Only this time the stare lasted a beat long before he sighed.

Papa: "Kgomotso." He always calls me by full name. "Whatever you do, never forget us, wa nkwa? Never forget us. And stay away from boys, Kgomotso. These Johannesburg boys are nothing but trouble."

Deep. Trust me. Whenever such words came from my father, they're always deep for some reason. Maybe it's because of the way he is. Well, the boys part I feel was unnecessary because he should know by now that I'm responsible enough to know such. My father reaches out his arms to me for the warmest embrace, then joined by my mother and then Mahlodi. I guess it's time for her to give her aunt trouble and grey hairs now.

Mahlodi: "I'll miss you Ms Big Forehead." She always makes fun of my forehead for no reason.

She makes it seem like I asked God to give me a big forehead and she'll always say that. But I'll miss her nonetheless. I really will.