She put on a huge smile in order to hide her pain. I was trapped in the same situation as hers. I wished to help her, but they say blood is thicker than water. Plus, who am I to interfere between a mother and her daughter’s misunderstandings?

We were at Glassy Waters restaurant, and I was staring at that shy girl as her mother humiliated her even more.

“You are a curse Nomalanga,” the mother said. Her voice echoed around the restaurant as she spoke. “I sent you to order half a chicken, not a full chicken! Who will pay for this? No wonder you’re repeating grade 11 for the fourth time, you don’t listen. Worse, you don’t ask!”

While this scene was unfolding, everybody in the resturant was shocked and humiliated. Some people just glared at Nomalanga without hearing her side of the story, and she was almost in tears.

When Nomalanga’s mother was done, Nomalanga asked to be excused. “I need to rush to the ladies room.” She then trotted to the ladies room rubbing her eyes.

“What are you staring at?” the girl’s mother said to me, catching me off guard. I caught my breath and kept quiet.

“You need to stop interfering with other people’s businesses, do you hear me?” my mother said to me.

I obviously felt intimidated by my mother. It wasn’t that I respected her, respect is earned. As a matter of fact, I don’t even have a scintilla of respect for her. After a while, I stood up from my chair and rushed to the ladies room without even touching the food she had ordered for me.

When I walked into the ladies room, I found a dark skinned Nomalanga crying her lungs out, and it was a macho, manly cry. She was sitting by the corner, and her head was bowed because there was something shiny she was struggling to take out of her shoe. I tiptoed towards her, bent down and gently placed my hand on her shoulder. As I did this, she was startled and nearly screamed, but I silently asked her not to make a noise. She then stared at me and I could feel the pain she was feeling. Her eyes were red like blood, and her tears couldn’t stop streaming down her face. I sat next to her. Because I’m sensitive, I was almost in tears too.

“I know how you’re feeling, you feel so empty right now, and you wish the earth could swallow you. There are suicidal thoughts in your mind, and your heart is burning from unbearable pain. You feel like there’s no one to turn to, is that right?” This just came out of nowhere, and I felt like the old me I had buried the day before took control over me.

Before answering, Nomalanga raised her head, and her eyes were shining of tears. She took a deep breath. “I am used to this,” she said. “Every time when I try to recover from this public shame, she repeats it all over again. It’s like when I start a fire she pours water on it, but when I want to extinguish that fire, she adds fuel to it. What kind of a parent is my mother?” She tried holding back her tears, but her eyes sabotaged her to the point where her face was half wet and puffy.

I stretched my hand out and wiped the tears off her face, sabotaging the dark skinned beautiful face with only one dimple, and I wanted to see her smiling and exposing that cute dimple.

“Ever since my father divorced mama,” Nomasonto added, “she has been treating me like this. I try by all means to obey her rules and be the best girl ever, but it stays the same. When dad was around, mama was never like this. I’m even convinced now that I’m living with a stranger. My mother wouldn’t treat me like this, she wouldn’t publicly shame me, she would fix my crown instead, and she would never destroy my self-image. She treats me like I’m invisible now, and she no longer has time for me. Worse thing is, she accused me of cheating with her boyfriend, who’s young enough to be her son, but what can I say? Maybe this is all a nightmare…”

I related to her, but I wanted to be her shoulder to cry on, and I didn’t want our tears to mix. So, in order for me to forcefully hold my tears back, I blinked non-stop.

Tell us: What advice would you give to the girl who was crying?