After speaking to Dumo, the driver nodded and drove off, and Dumo just stood there smiling to himself. The complement had made him believe in himself even more, and it had made him believe that he could do even better than he had already done. He stood there seeing everything come together. Finally, there was hope for the future!

“Yewena Dumo! (Hey you, Dumo),” a sharp voice called from behind Dumo, making him jump. He then turned and saw his angry mother standing by the shack’s doorway. “Akuboni ukuba kuhlwile, usisithunzela wema ebumnyameni? Buya!. (Can’t you see it is late? Why are you standing in the dark, or are you a ghost? Come back!),” she said.

Dumo hurried inside the yard and locked the gate behind him. But, as he approached the shack, he could hear his mother shouting inside. It was clear to him that his mother was not in a good mood at all. He then opened the door and entered the dining room.

“You do not even knock, you just barge in as if you are the man of this house,” his mother said with rage. “Even your father knocked every time he entered this shack.”

Dumo knew that something had ruined his mother’s mood. She was not fond of the idea that Dumo would be gone the whole day and come back in the evening, but she had never been like that to him before.

“What is wrong, mama?” Dumo asked, still standing by the door.

“Kuyabuliswa ke kulomzi (We greet in this house),” Dumo’s mother responded.

“Kuxolo mama (I am sorry mama),” Dumo apologised, speaking in a low voice.

He had never seen his mother like that before. While he was still confused by everything that was going on, his little sister, Khwezi, entered the dining room from the bedroom. When she saw her brother, she ran to him and threw herself on him.

“Brother!” Khwezi exclaimed while happily hugging Dumo.

“Khwezi, how are you?” Dumo responded. He then played and laughed with his little sister while not taking his eyes off his mother. He sensed that something was not right, and that something had bothered his mother.

“What is that, Dumo?” Khwezi asked, going to the plastic bags that Dumo was holding. Dumo then kneeled down, opened one plastic for Khwezi, took out a children’s laptop, and gave it to her. “Is this mine?” Khwezi asked with hope, and Dumo nodded in response with a smile. Khwezi then hugged him again. “Thank you! Now I can tell my friends that I also have a computer.”

Dumo felt proud of what he had done. He had always wanted to make his sibling happy. If it was up to him, he would do great things for her all the time, but he had no money to do anything for her yet.

“Where do you come from Dumo?” his mother asked, speaking in a low voice.

Dumo swallowed. “Johannesburg,” he responded.

“What were you doing there?” she asked.

“I was performing,” Dumo responded.

His mother looked at him for a long time without saying anything, and Dumo knew that she was not impressed at all. “And that car? Whose car was it?” she asked.

Before responding, Dumo turned to Khwezi, who was still struggling with the box containing the laptop, trying to open it. “Let us open it tomorrow, sisi,” he said. “It is late now.”

“But I want to see it now,” Khwezi responded.

“It will be the first thing I do when I wake up tomorrow, I promise,” Dumo said, kissing his little sister’s forehead after making the promise.

After a while, Khwezi went to the other room to sleep. Dumo did not want to argue with his mother that night. He just wished she could just trust him and stop with her questions, but he understood that she was trying to protect him. She always preached to him about how cruel the world was, but she needed to understand that he was not a child anymore. Yes, he was her child, but he was old enough to make his own decisions now.

“The event manager organised an Uber to bring me home after the event,” he said.

Dumo’s mother did not say anything for a moment. Dumo knew that she wanted to say something, but she was holding herself back. “I just hope you do not get into trouble with your Ubers,” she finally said.

After speaking, sDumo’s mother stood up from the couch and went to her room. Dumo did not know what to make of it, but he knew that there was something very wrong with his mother.

Tell us: What do you think might be wrong with Dumo’s mother?