Thato found himself loving two women, he found himself in a comfort zone about that. What he didn’t know was that from that small atom came more miserable atoms that made trouble for him.

It seemed his stare was mostly interested on the envelope, but no! What was in his bosom had most of it. It was from his sweetening, Bagoamogetse. The envelope made him cast back some memories, through the memory lane he remember how sweet she was.


He was sitting on his Mini Cooper’s bonnet. She was standing in front of him. He was in most favorable pole of time. Rumors around kasi invited a controversy between them. He tried by all means to smooth her ruffled feathers.

“Why is everyone convinced that you are with her?” she asked with sadness in her eyes.

“Look, Bagoamogetse, you don’t have to go around and believe whatever everyone says,”

“Sometimes you are not you, Thato.”

“With every tic or toc on the clock, my adoration never ceased to beam, Sweetening. Beware! This raw false might mature to woe that might bear us misery,” he convinced her.

She couldn’t stop crying, she never had a heart, for her heart lived with him. She had such imposing beauty, her figure never really restored after their first two year old son, Oitirele, who she had when she was nineteen. Though it was like that, a man could still wear a green willow and break to dust if he may pitifully fall into her “no”.

“I love you, Bagoamogetse,” he was still trying to convince her as he put his hands around her neck.

“Love you too,”

Though she never smiled, to her he had such glance that she was illiterate to read its fidelity.

He kissed her passionately and bade her goodbye, got into his car and drove off.

He was living and breathing IT, he was an IT technician yet such a double-hearted guy, like if he fixed his heart on one mate the other heart would starve. He was twenty five now and when he turned thirty he’d make Bagoamogetse his wedded wife, finally tie the knot and sign on a dotted line. His work shined bright to everyone, a role model one could say, a legacy of hope in the community.

Oh! Chriselle, costumed with such glorious beauty. Beauteous figure that made poets figure out few figures of speeches, oh! And that beauty, that beauty you could find more of it skin deep. That was where Thato’s second heart treaded, he devoted most of his spare time to her. In one mind’s eye she brought spring in summer. He’d been with her for an annual now; she knew everything about him, even about Bagoamogetse. The devotion that always felt newest, such youthful turmoil that her pulse send to her mind, she loved him so much.

He stopped his car by her home, there after she emerged.

“Coma would be more pleasant if you come and visit me every hour of my sleep,” he amused her.

“Oh! Stop it… Good day,” she smiled. Senoinoi (cute) tswanas would say.

“You make my day worth to live,” he amused her. That grin again brightened his day, like nature granted her more than nine months to complete its perfect nature. Another thing was that she was not much of a talker.

“So you sleeping over tonight?” he asked with a saint grin.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,”

“Okay, let’s get in the car before MaMathebe sees us,”

She uttered an idle laughter as she got in the car. They drove off to the sun set.

Oh! Yester-night was enthralled and delightful. Thato opened his eyes to her beauty, oh! Yes she was still as neat as morning dew.

“Chriselle…” He tried to awake her. “Chriselle, wake up baby,” still no sign.

He panicked, he tried to shake her out of her sleep, Chriselle showed no sign whatsoever. Oh! No, Chriselle, could this be? It couldn’t be that she had forgotten her Asthma inhaler at home.


Yes it had happened. She was facing breathing difficulties and he was out of realisation. To and fro in his room, he didn’t know what to do. He called the ambulance but then she was declared dead. Chriselle’s life span had been cut, Chriselle ceased to be.

It was a week later after Chriselle’s burial. He had never made his presence for any stretch of the imagination couldn’t make him believe that Chriselle was gone. He was sitting in the lapa feeling like he was in the midst of worse pole. His mind never lost its state of being sober but now him and his enmity for alcohol was friendship.

The sorrow reached Bagoamogetse’s ears and she didn’t want to hear anything from him.

“Oh! Chriselle, your perfume still live with me, my sense of smell is yours now,” he uttered these words to himself as he poured himself a fifth glass of wine, as he gulped it his mom came out of the house.
Thato, Ngwanaka, ke gore o thomile gonwa bjala?” (Thato, my son, for real you have stated drinking?) His mom asked as she shook her head.

“Mama, I can’t take it anymore,”

Tshwarelo, my son, send your apologies to Mamathebe, Bagoamogetse, my son. And God. Yes! God, Ngwanaka,” she said showing great distress.

“Ma…” his speech sank in sorrow.

“At the other hand it’s your fault, Ngwanaka, Ngwana, Mamathebe was nineteen. Mamathebe too had dreams for her, her university dreams next year,” she said as she tried to console him by rubbing his back.

He felt like some kind of vice befell him, merely the thinking of Chriselle who dominated his mental works and his polygamist heart. He promptly stood up, checked his pockets for car keys, and ran into his car.

Thato! Thato! Moshimane yo o otlela koloi a nwele, Bathong! (this boy is going to drive whilst he was drinking, blimey!)” his mother tried to stop him but he drove off.

His Mini Cooper moved at a friendly speed through Kasi streets. He felt an albatross around his neck. There he was… at Chriselle’s home, where her head used to rest after each of their beautiful days and nights, where her beauty was borne. He demanded to see Mamathebe. At first Primrose, Chriselle’s sister, didn’t want to let him in but Mamathebe advised her to let him in.

As he sat there with Mamathebe (as he recognized that apples don’t fall far from tree), he witnessed black spots beneath her eyes as the sign of mourning. His face perfectly displayed the rueful life he was living now. He didn’t utter a word, his vocal chords froze.

Ke mmuditse nakong ye ntshi gore ago tlogel. (I spoke to her at many times to leave you). She said she loved you. But you listen here, young man, if my daughter slept home that evening this would’ve never happened. You poisoned her with your smooth words, bought her presents so you can finally sleep with her.

AKERE?” (isn’t it?) asked Mamathebe with sorrow in her voice.

“Ma! I wish I’ve foresight this but…”

Mamathebe shut his mouth by saying, “Bona mo, (listen here), I know that you are with Mamatlala’s daughter, Bagoamogetse, you even have a son with her. What you were doing with my daughter was gibberish,” she said.

“I’m sorry, ma!” his eyes filled with tears.

She could speak no more, she was just crying. Primrose walked in and said, “Thato, it’s time to go, don’t you ever show up here. You are an enemy of this house.”

He stood up and left. Oh! That visit brought about elongation in his depressed hours. Lower part of hourglass couldn’t fill up for him, roof falling in and merely thinking of his nkosikazi now, Bagoamogetse. Hoping to get a chance to tell her that he loves her. That he was sorry and that he really wants to have wrinkles within her presence.

Beneath a sun that could cremate one, his car at high speed on Kasi pavement. Blur vision on his sight because of those tears that have filled up in his eyes. Then suddenly he picked a sight of some kind of an animal in front of him, voluntary action made him press that brake and his car made a sudden halt. His chest hit against the stare wheel then he a blacked out.

He woke up three minutes later. Heard hullabaloo of a woman who was not that far rare from his car. He got out of the car. He thought he was having optical illusions when he saw people gathered around a lifeless boy lying on a pavement, blood all over him. Yes it is, the boy was chasing his love of soccer and he hit him.

“You killed my son, sethotho (fool),” the women said as her uproar grew louder.

Paramedics soon arrived and the boy’s heart couldn’t sing to the stethoscope any longer.

Soon after then arrived the police and a breathalyzer proved that Thato had had a drink. He couldn’t understand how all this could happen, the poor mom couldn’t stop crying as her lifeless son was carried in a body bag.


He is still holding the envelope. There is a letter inside. He unfold the letter and the letter is read:

Dear Thato

I wrote this letter to tell you that I now found a way to move on with life. I know it’ll be hard for you to be happy for me. I’m getting married to Hendrick Maseko in two months’ time. I met him at university. I know I never told you that I’ve decided to go and finish up my Diploma and I’m sorry for that. I promise to tell Oitirele about you and how you love him. I want him to grow up knowing who his real father is and all good things he wished for him.

I hope a good life for you, Thato. Hope this will not make things harder for you.


Oh! What a pity, such rough melancholy he’d have to endure for maltreating his mistress and for lack of fidelity to her. On the other hand it seemed she didn’t want him to see his son. Tears all over his face as that half dead bulb of jail reflected on his face.

He never saw her in five years; ever since the magistrate hit the gavel against the sound-block and sentenced him twenty five years of jail. Yes she was there, Bagoamogetse, and she couldn’t stop crying when she saw him being taken away. Alas!

The End

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