There was tangible anger in the room from the people over the lessening of the sentence. Many of the women complained that Sonele was a good woman and how her end was unfortunate. Others even said that, Thekeza killed her in cold blood. He was chained and sent off to the station to catch the train and some cheered as he left the courtroom, pleased with the outcome.

Escorted out by 2 guards when he reached the door of the amphitheatre he turned suddenly and looked at the Bishop with questions in his eye, the Bishop read his eyes and nodded and Thekeza smiled and walked out.

Life went on for the little boy in the Bishop’s home. Year after year he struggled to wave off the stigma of being the murderer’s child, or being thought of as the one who influenced his father to kill Sonele. It was not in the words the locals said to him when they met him in the streets that hurt him. It was in their avoidance of him that he knew they blamed him for Sonele’s death.

He struggled to make friendships with the other boys in this town. He was not welcome in their homes. He saw how their mothers whispered at the markets whenever they saw him. Maybe it was his physical resemblance to his father that caused him to bear the brunt. It didn’t make sense to some, Thekeza was in prison, yet the spitting image of his reflection was walking about freely in Kasilami. The women felt as if justices had not prevailed.

The little boy was blamed for a cause far bigger than he could ever understand. The women transferred their anger and disapproval of what Thekeza did to Sonele onto him. He represented the hardship that most women endured in their marriage. He represented the darkness and the deceitfulness of the city. He came from a place they had never been. Some women in Kasilami had lost their husbands to the city. They left home to go and find work and they have never come back since. He suffered on behalf of the city. He was the sacrifice.

But the boy carried on with his life as normal as he possibly could. The Bishop raised him well, like his own flesh and blood. He trained in up in the ways of life. He trained him up in the ways of the ministry. As he grew a little older, he began to be active in the ministry. He had a clear gift for music. He could play almost any instrument you put before him. Since the Bishop discovered this talent in him, the Bishop began to introduce different instruments to be played at church.

His 18th birthday was coming up this year. The Bishop wanted to throw him a big party at his home and celebrate his success. This was the age one entered into adulthood. The boy had always been obedient and respectful towards the Bishop. He wanted to honour him this year and send him off on his right of passage of being a man. The night before his 18th birthday, the boy went about the house looking for the Bishop and he found him praying in his study.

“Sir,” he called out. “Sir are you in here.”

“Yes. Come in. Come in my child.”

“I am leaving tomorrow.”

“That is fine. Where you off to?” asked the Bishop.

“I am taking the train to the city,” he replied. “I am going to see my father.”

The Bishop dropped the dish he was holding in his hand. He was convinced the boy had no recollection of his father or the death.

“Your father? But I am your father,” said the Bishop with a straight face.

“You can come with me…” There was a lump in the boy’s throat as he said that. “If you want.” He said, “I mean, please come with me.”

Thekeza had committed the ultimate crime. Last the Bishop heard he received the highest sentence, and was allowed no visitors. Such prisoners, who are sentenced for life, usually disappear in prison. It becomes too expensive for the state to look after them. The Bishop was at a loss words over what to tell this young man before him. He did not know himself, whether or not Thekeza still lived, and how would he find out.

“Yes I will go with you. But give me time to find out a few things first.” The Bishop replied.

“Go to your room and rest.” He ordered him.

The boy must have picked up on the Bishop’s panic because he left immediately. He was more scared than the Bishop was, but this was a conversation someone had to start and he wanted to be the one that started it. The Bishop spent much of the following day out of the house. He called the boy into his office in the evening after his birthday dinner and told him that he found out that sadly his father died many years ago.

The two of them wept uncontrollably. He clung on to the Bishop in sheer desperation.

“You see what happened was…” the Bishop tried to explain.

“No details please no details, Sir. Already I am filled with one murder in my head. I see the whole thing in my head every day.” He managed to the get the words out. “It is driving me insane.” He said sobbing.

The two sat on the floor clinging on to one another until the boy was done crying and he let go of the Bishop and retreated to his bedroom. In the cover of the blanket of the night the boy took his belongings and left. The Bishop watched out his bedroom window as the boy left the only home he had known in over a decade. The boy knew the Bishop was watching him somehow. When he closed the gate behind him, he took off his hat and gestured thank you at the Bishop’s bedroom window. The Bishop wept bitterly. The boy wept bitterly as well as went on his way.

“Lord, where is my son going?” the Bishop asked the Lord. “I hope you find your way back home soon,” the Bishop whispered to himself before he fell asleep.

Days became months. Months became years. The Bishop never heard from Thekeza’s boy again.

***

Tell us: Do you believe what the Bishop said, about Thekeza being dead?