I was listening to my favourite RNB song when I received a call from my mother. I was very happy because I missed my mother so much. I could hear in her voice as she said, “Molo mntan’am,” that she was not well.

“Mama yinton’ingxaki?” I asked her, because all I could hear in her voice was something was hurting her.

My mother told me that she wanted me to be strong because my two little brothers looked up to me. I was scared and I didn’t know what to expect, a lot of things went through my mind.

She said, “Ayasanga your father is sick, ugula kakhulu mntan’am.” I could hear she was crying. She told me that she knew how much I loved my father and she encouraged me to be strong before she hung up the phone.

At that time I was here in Cape Town and my parents were in the Eastern Cape. In my mind I pictured my mom’s wet face because of crying and I could imagine my father lying in bed, thin and sick.

I was never as frightened as I was on this day, ever in my life. I thought it was the end of my father’s life.

I thought: Utata’m ekuphela kwakhe ndizokuphinda ndimthathe phi. I didn’t eat the whole day, nor did I speak to anyone.

The following day I took the first taxi to the Eastern Cape. The distance was so long and the sound of the tyres and angry wind whistling past made me nervous.

I arrived in the Eastern Cape at 6 a.m. The first thing I asked when I entered the house was: “Where is my father?”

I could see the tears running from my mother’s big brown eyes.

I saw my father lying in bed as thin as a broomstick and I burst into tears. He couldn’t even speak, he just lay there crying, fighting for his life. I could imagine his funeral as he was lying in his bed.

I was so frightened feeling that I had lost it all with my father, everything I knew. He was everything to me. His blood was in mine. But because my mother is a strong woman of God and through prayer I didn’t lose my father that day. He has recovered and I am so grateful for that.


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