“Okay fine!” his mother finally responded, giving in. “I lost my job.”

Dumo had suspected something like that, but his mother always woke up and said she was going to work. So, if she had lost her job, he wondered where she was going every day.

“When?” Dumo asked.

“Dumo I …” his mother responded, stuttering.

“When, mama?” Dumo asked again, cutting her short.

Instead of responding, Dumo’s mother just sat down that time because she felt too exhausted to argue. At that moment, Dumo saw his mother at her weakest for the first time in his life. She appeared older than Dumo knew her to be, and she looked like she was beginning to lose weight.

“Two weeks ago,” she responded. “Our agency ended its relationship with the company we worked for, and the new agency said they would be coming with their own staff, so there is no need for us.”

Dumo never saw that one coming. He beat himself for not asking earlier, because maybe his mother would not be as stressed as she was if he had.

“It is okay baby, I will find another job,” his mother said, squeezing his hand.

Dumo’s heart was so broken he feared that, if he said one word, he would start crying. There was also a lump in his throat. “Where are you going now, mama, because you are not working?” he asked.

He wanted to know where his mother was going every day. He did not want her to kill herself with hard labour, because maybe he could assist her. Before responding, his mother debated with herself whether she should tell him or not.

“Just do not be angry baby,” she finally said.

Dumo knew that he was not going to like what his mother was going to tell him, but he still nodded his head, indicating that he was not going to be angry.

“I am working at Mthembu’s butchery,” his mother said.

Dumo stood up from the chair he was sitting on as soon as he heard his mother’s response. Mthembu’s butchery was the last place his mother should have thought of. “That dog, mama?” he asked, wanting to cry.

“Dumo listen, it is only for a few weeks until I find another job,” his mother responded.

“Weeks are like years with that man,” Dumo thought to himself. He never wished for his mother to work for him again, not after how he had treated her. “Don’t you remember how that devil treated you, mama?” he finally asked. “Don’t you remember the insults he threw at you when you asked for your money?”

After speaking, Dumo went to his room to get his jersey. When he came back, his mother was already on her feet, looking more nervous than Dumo had ever seen her before.

“Where are you going, Dumo?” his mother asked.

“You will not work for that thing, mama. We would rather sleep with empty stomachs,” Dumo responded. “I am going to tell him that you are no longer working for him.”

“Dumo, you cannot do that, I need the money,” his mother pleaded.

“You do not need his money!” Dumo responded.

After speaking, Dumo burst into the streets in a hurry, and his mother hurried behind him. He did not want to see that heartless bastard using his mother. She would rather sit at home not working than work for that man.

Tell us: What do you think is going to happen when Dumo gets to the butchery?