The sun is not out yet, not one cock has crowed. Vusi and Sakhile lift Gogo MaKhumalo into the wheelbarrow. Vusi’s whole body aches from the stress about his matric exams, from chores, from lack of sleep.

He pushes the wheelbarrow while Sakhile carries his schoolbag. Gogo screams like she is being struck with a hammer every time the wheelbarrow hits a bump on the gravel road. The wind picks up dust and Gogo coughs until tears stream down her face.

“Sakhile, the clinic is far and it will be packed. Run ahead and hold a place for us in the queue,” says Vusi.

“No ways, Vusi. You have an exam to write. You leave me with Gogo and head to school. I’ll take Gogo to the clinic. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her,” Sakhile says and wipes Gogo’s tears away with the hem of his T-shirt.

They move to the edge of the road as a car speeds by, leaving them in a cloud of dust. It screeches to a stop ahead of them and reverses. When the dust settles they recognise the driver. It is Sonke, one of their uncles from the rich side of the Ntuli clan. He lives in Nelspruit, where he works as a mechanical engineer. He appears shocked at the sight of the boys pushing Gogo in a wheelbarrow.

“Hhayi bo! Vusi, what’s happening? Niyaphi (Where are you going)? What’s wrong with Aunty?” Sonke asks, getting out of his car.

“Gogo is very sick, Uncle Sonke,” says Vusi politely. “She has not been well for the past two years. But she got worse this morning so we are taking her to the clinic in Somkhele.”

“Why have you never told me that Aunty is so sick?” Sonke asks, with genuine concern.

“Gagaga!” Sakhile laughs mockingly. “Why have we never told you? Has no-one at the big house ever told you Gogo is sick? Everyone there knows that Gogo is sick.” Sakhile frowns at Sonke.

“Maybe they were still going to tell me … I only arrived late last night. Let’s get Aunty in my car and I’ll take her to the clinic. We will leave the wheelbarrow in that house,” Sonke points to another homestead nearby. “You can get it when we return from the clinic. Let’s get going.”

They carefully lift Gogo onto the back seat of Sonke’s car. Gogo is in such pain she does not recognise Sonke, once her favourite nephew when there was still peace in the Ntuli clan. She just winces whenever the car hits bumps on the gravel road.

“Why is it that it’s you boys who are taking Aunty to the clinic? Where are your uncles?” asks Sonke.

“We can’t reach our uncles on the phone. They stopped sending Gogo money years ago. We are alive because of Gogo’s pension. She is suffering, yet she gave birth to two sons and two daughters who are working.” Tears fill Vusi’s eyes.

Sonke is out of words. They drive the rest of the way in silence.

***

Tell us: Would you say Gogo’s children are guilty of both elder abuse and child abuse?