Early in the morning I headed to the river and bathed with the stinky green muthi. I went straight home after that.
When I got home it was still dark and my parents were sleeping. I remembered to apply the muthi and amazingly the door was wide open. When I got inside I saw human skulls, dead animal skins and dangerous weapons such as knives and machetes. I called the police, burnt the muthi and told the spirits to leave the room.
“Thank you, son, for freeing us after a long time,” said the beautiful dark woman. “Take care of Mfazwe, your father,” she said, and disappeared into thin air again.
“Please don’t go! I need your help!” I yelled.
My ‘parents’ came in. My father was holding an axe.
“What have you done, stupid boy?” he asked in anger.
“You’ve killed innocent souls.” I stood my ground.
“I am going to kill you just like I did your mother, Nosiphiwe,” he said, moving closer to me.
Mam’Mpumi was crying out loud.
“Shut up, you fool! The neighbours will hear you!” he said.
“What did these people do to you?” I asked.
The police came in and took them away.
Two days later I received a letter from Mam’Mpumi.
Dear Buzwe
I’m writing you a letter because I don’t have the courage to look into your eyes and tell you the truth. You might not believe me when I say I love you my boy and I regret everything I did in the past.
It was 22 years ago when Nosiphiwe, your mother, and I came to Joburg. I met Xolani and we fell in love. Life was hard because of poverty. Xolani met a man named Amos and he was introduced to a cult. We were told to sacrifice our loved ones so that we could be rich. We organised a Christmas lunch one night and invited your parents. Mfazwe didn’t make it, but Nosiphiwe came. We killed her after she gave birth to you and I took you because I sacrificed my unborn baby.
The accidents that killed your three uncles 10 years ago were also our plan. I’ve already told the police to look for all the corpses in the yard. Please go visit your grandparents and explain to them everything that has happened. Don’t forget to tell them how sorry I am and that I will never forgive myself for the pain I caused.
Work hard and avoid taking shortcuts to success. I will always love you and I hope that one day you will forgive me.
Your aunt
Nompumelelo
I tried to tear the letter, but Lindiwe stopped me.
A week later I heard that my aunt and her had husband died in prison and their leaders were never found. I built a strong relationship with my father and we visited my mother’s grave often. Oh, and I made Lindiwe my wife.
***
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