[The same setting as the one we’ve seen in Act 1, scene 2. Jeffrey and his friends taking a lunch time break at school. The introduction of a new female teacher at school spikes the gang’s conversation. The new teacher was in her mid-twenties and her voluble skin has sparked secret lovers.)

GODFREY: Eh majita, the new English teacher for Grade 11’s is smoking-hot, hey?

ANDRIES: She attracts considerate attention. And the way she speaks English through her nose just makes me want to ram myself into her and taste the sweat of her body. (they laugh but Jeffrey looks far-away oblivious to his friends.)

JEFFREY: She has qualities expected of a slut; it won’t surprise me if she starts sleeping with every male teacher in the school. (his friends become aware of his coldness) My mother was once a flower of great beauty, so young and full of promise just like our new teacher. Good skin vibrancy and honey-coated voice that hypnotizes. My mother’s soul was shining with fortunes as she stung ahead in attaining education. But love is such a bitch! (Looks away and smiles to himself) She fell pregnant before her matriculation examination and then she couldn’t write the exam. And then, her dreams died away. My father, (takes a deep breath) he never made it to high school senior class; he quit school and started working on the Mlungu garden, they called him best doctor of the grass. (chuckle) He comes from a family that could not afford anything of taste to wash through the tongue. So when he impregnated my mother, my grandees kicked him out of the house. (Looks at his friends) There were too many hungry mouths. He worked so hard and one of his employers gave him some roofing iron to build four room shack and pay lobola for my mother. My mother loved him so much; she did not care even when he couldn’t afford to buy a matrimonial bed or started sleeping and impregnating the witch-woman next door. She loved him. (His eyes heavy with tears) He loved the daughter next door, he conveniently named her Marilyn. He chose the name identical to my little sister’s. That’s how much he loves her. (His hurt tone breaks words) Love destroyed my mother. She loves him (repeating to himself with disgust). Love doesn’t age but sometimes its wage is rage. (Bell rings and learners starts marching to their respective classroom. Jeffrey and his friends remain. Silently they sit digesting what’s been told). Aggg! What am I saying, life is i’sfebe. (Tries to hide his pain).

GODFREY: It’s okay, my friend. We’re here for you.

ANDRIES: (Nods head to assure him) Always boy.

***

[The sun has gone to rest and the moon is hanging in the sky. Thursday night is always quite, it is the only day when Martin doesn’t have to work till evening. The only duty of the day is watering the plants. The Batho family sat in the kitchen watching late-night soapy and drama series. The head of the family has been out for the whole afternoon and the family knows that he will come home piss-drunk.]

MARY: (Looking at Jeffrey) What happened to Lily’s hand? The bruises looked very serious. And when I asked her about it, she started acting so weird.

JEFFREY: (Irritated) Keep your vuvuzela mouth out of Lily’s business. (Keeps his attention on the television screen).

AGNES: Who’s Lily?

JEFFREY: (Disinterested) Some girl from school.

MARY: (Disappointed) some girl? She’s a daughter of the Moroko’s and she’s also the mistress of Jeffrey’s heart (her face floods with joy). You should see her mama; she has beauty worthy of hefty lobola price and good manners to complete her recipe. She would make a good makoti.

MARY: I hope to meet her someday. (Martin walks into the house. And his presence is accompanied by the power odour of stale feet and sweaty armpits).

MARTIN: (Stands in front of the television, obscuring everyone’s view. He smiles and reveals nicotine stained teeth. As he gulps for breath the whole house reeks of traditional beer) Hey! Guess what my Mlungu said to me vandag. Today the gods smiled down on me, my Mlungu appreciated the richness of my sweat and gave me couple of coins to buy beer of a good price (Enthusiastic). You know, I like that Mlungu; he’s not a racist like other masters I worked for. (He sits down) they were all kakness of creation; today they would talk about the land reform policies and retribution of wealth in the former Rhodesia. And tomorrow they will be complaining about the streets of Gauteng hampered with unpronounceable African names. And yet they ignore to complain about Whites who monopolise and capitalize on our mineral resources (lively). But my Mlungu is not like that, he doesn’t care about the political platforms calling for Boer state in South Africa. Only if you could see hero-worship in his eyes whenever speaks about the great Nelson Mandela. He’s a good Boer.

AGNES: I thought we had agreed to suspend spending money on pleasures?

MARTIN: Aggg! A man must quench his thirst after labouring under the sweltering sun. My Mlungu shares the same simple life philosophy; you drink today and start planning tomorrow.

JEFFREY: (Murmuring) Very ingenious.

MARTIN: (Suspiciously) what was that?

JEFFREY: He’s a wise Afrikaner.

MARTIN: Very wise. I think of him as an Afrikaner with Black nationality in his blood… he’s like our Michael Jackson stolen by the cruel White system. That man always tells me that beer improves your appetite for food and I start to notice how it has improved mine.

AGNES: But we are not like your Mlungu, if we start spending money on beer our standard will not improve.

MARTIN: Woman, you need to live a little. (Looks at Jeffrey) My son, you know when I was at your age I had great looks and wore clothes of expensive Italian cloth. Ladies used to worship the grounds I walked on. I dressed better than any man in this bloody community. But not anymore, this is my life now. But have you started succeeding the name of this family during social courtesies?

JEFFREY: (Disrespectful) Well, I don’t have the privilege of wearing clothes of descriptive appearance. I guess…

MARTIN: (Interrupts) It has nothing to do with that. You have always been a late bloomer. You remind me of your late-uncle; he had the most awful luck with women. And you know, despite the disgusting blood drinking rites of sangoma’s, he dated one of them. It’s no surprise that you are lurking behind your friends, it’s because you have taken after him

MARY: Jeffrey has a girlfriend, Papa. She’s from a family of scholars.

MARTIN: I doubt. Is she your girlfriend or friend of a friend?

JEFFREY: (Hatred flush in his eyes) Nothing.

AGNES: Martin? (Shakes her head)

MARTIN: Keep quiet, woman. Why do you always have to be such a nuisance and fussy? Your attitude needs new curtains.

AGNES: You are drunk, Martin. Maybe you should go to bed before you do or say something you might regret.

MARTIN: Boss lady. Look here I’ll go to bed when I want to and you should know when to speak or shut-up.

AGNES: Mary, dish for your father.

MARTIN: I did not pay lobola for Mary, I married you to dish for me; wash my clothes and raise me children. And now you want our daughter to play house wife? You are wearing a wedding band not Mary. Sometimes you can be so useless.

AGNES: (Silent)

MARTIN: I shouldn’t have married you. My father was right, you’re a curse. He always told me not inter-marry a woman from your tribe; you are all cursed with a powerful spell. Your mother should have aborted you; you are such a taboo (Spits on the floor).

AGNES: (Hurt) I’m a taboo? I supported you when your family turned their backs on you; I was there when you started having extra marital affairs with… (A fist kisses her mouth before she finishes her sentence)

MARTIN: (on his feet, Agnes remains sat with a paining jaw) How dare you talk to me like that? I’m your husband and you should respect me and do as I tell you. Do you understand me? (Silence) I’m talking to you.

AGNES: (Unwillingly) I understand.

MARTIN: You don’t talk to me like that. (He paces up and down in the house and finally spot a piece of wood the length of a mini-keyboard. He picks it and walks towards Agnes) If you need discipline, I’ll make sure you get one. You forgot who I am and maybe I should remind you. (Jeffrey stands in front of him) Wena, you want to do what exactly? (Mary remains terrified at the far-right corner of the room) You better move out of way before I Gautrain your face.

JEFFREY: Go ahead, Papa. Hit me and maybe all your problems will go away. You never wanted to have us as your family; we are just a waste of your sweat, so go ahead. (Martin feels weak) If you can’t respect Mama after all you’ve done to her and she stood by you but you kept on repeatedly hurting her, then we are not expecting you to love us, because you’re just a visitor in our lives. And maybe we should move out of the house and let your makhwapheni next door to move in together with that bastard of a child.You call yourself a father but all you do is worse than Joseph Kony’s dictatorship. Hit us and maybe you’ll feel better, and Marilyn’s father, I don’t care anymore. (Martin sinks into the nearest chair)

AGNES: Enough Jeffrey, go to sleep, and you too, Mary.

JEFFREY: I hope your soul drifts out of that tired body and burns in hell. (Exit, followed by Mary)

AGNES: Martin I’m sorry. (He is silent) Martin? (She leaves him sitting alone, his face mask of a man with troubles of the soul)

***

Let’s chat: What do you think of what Jeffrey did? Would you have the courage to do the same to protect your mother?