One hot afternoon, just a few days before my late uncle Thomas’s funeral half the family was at my late uncle’s house at Gamashishi preparing. You can imagine how packed and buzzing the yard was. Trust Limpopo – it was one of the hottest days of late Autumn.

I was with the “daily sun” club of the family which happened to be the makotis/brides. We were all in the kitchen for different reasons. While I was washing a pile of dirty dishes, assisted by my cousin Nomawethu (Uncle Solly’s teenage daughter), the “daily sun” club were binging on hot beverages by the kitchen table. Five of them settled on chairs that were surrounding the table, while the odd one, Sis Funeka (brother Kgosi’s wife) was standing by the window in search of a victim to binge the tea on from the passers by.

The rest of the ladies were hellbent on discussing the level of hideousness of Aunt Linda’s (the sister to the deceased) make-up. Sis Funeka, being the most dramatic of them all, jumped from her position at the window and clapped her hands together releasing a little gasp while at it, drawing the attention of the ladies to her. I couldn’t help but pause from washing the dishes to eavesdrop a little.

“Hee, bafazi! Yazi, I just saw Bhuti Thapelo (one of my uncles and a cousin of the deceased) parading around with the keys of his big car dangling around his fingers as he usually does to show off! But that’s not the interesting part!” The ladies leaned on each other and on every word she uttered in suspense. They were so looking forward to the interesting part. Their “invested” look about the fresh gossip was reason enough for her to go on.

“The ‘wife’ or, should I say, the ‘newly wedded slay queen’ is nowhere in the scene! Akekho!” The noise that erupted after could never be forgotten. All the ladies were speaking at once giving each other take-fives.

“Lisakhanya thinks she is all that, huh!” Malumekazi Sbo (uncle Ben’s wife) commented when the noise had died down slurping her coffee dramatically.

“I bet she’s gonna make an appearance on the wedding day shaking her fat ass in an even shorter dress than the ones she usually wears on social media. Long weave, long nails, stilettos, batting her eyelashes like a hooker seducing a client, her colourful make-up on display for the whole village to see, imagine…” added na Skhosana (a distant relative that I was told was Uncle Snakho’s wife). This triggered uncontrollable laughter from the rest of the wives.

“She likes looking important when she’s not!” said Sis Funeka, frowning.

“She got married just yesterday, but already she is showing us her true colours. Who died and made her the family exucutive!” added Mamkhulu Pam munching on the fresh scones.

“I don’t like her. She’s too fake,” commented mangwane Lesedi (one of the sisters to the deceased) – the one I trusted would end the madness.

“Haibo bafazi! You have only met this person once on her wedding day, but you already have a mouthful to say about her without taking time to personally know her,” Nomawethu jumped in. As soon as she had said her piece, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. The nasty glares and deadly daggers pierced through her making her flush and cringe in regret.

A knock saved her from the insults she was about to receive. I can safely say that knock was her saving grace!

Mamkhulu Sonto (the elder makoti of all our makotis at home) ordered me to open the door. I obeyed and to everyone else’s dismay, and to my horror, the topic itself was standing by the door grinning from ear to ear.

She looked nothing like the ladies had painted her. She was everything but that, dressed in her full makoti attire with a shawl hanging around her shoulders and a doek neatly wrapped around her head. No eyelashes, no make-up, no short dress, no long nails, nothing! Talk about judgement of character gone wrong.

“Ladies, I’m sorry for my delayed arrival to help prepare for the funeral. Work-related issues kept me from an early arrival. I was told I would find you here and you would tell me what to do to help. Don’t worry about my pregnancy, it has never kept me from getting things done before and it won’t start now.”

All eyes fell on her stomach to confirm, and there it was, a visible bump underneath her makoti attire.

I have never seen people so guilt-stricken in my life!

The thought of also falling so easily for the gossip and concluding that she was what they described her as, made me feel like strangling myself for even thinking that. I hardly knew her for crying out loud.

Nomawethu couldn’t be happier with the change of tables! I could even sense an: ‘I warned you oldies but you never listen,’ from the smirk plastered on her face.

“I passed the ladies preparing supper outside. I’ll be out there helping them until further notice. Oh, and I baked yesterday. The muffins are in Naomi’s (one of my late uncle’s daughters) bedroom, hidden with the rest from parasites, so the baking part is well taken care of for now. I’ll leave you to your tea break.”

She left and it went silent in the room. As soon as they were sure that she was out of sight, they started bickering with each other, more like verbally attacking sis Funeka – the beginner of the gossip that had to do with sis Lisakhanya – for ‘feeding them poison’ as Malumekazi Sbo put it.

Seeing that the dishes were done, I left the kitchen in fits of giggles, not wanting to hear more of what the ladies would discuss further.

Turns out that sis Lisakhanya was not as bad as painted. She loved finer things in life, yes, but besides that she was humble, caring, hard-working, empathic and family-oriented.

Lesson learnt! Never judge a book by its cover