That’s when Mapheto took me in as her own child. I’ve never seen my biological mother nor have I ever heard her voice. When I was fifteen, Mapheto’s husband thought they had raised me for too long and that, because he was now unemployed, I was becoming too much of a burden for them. They couldn’t support two children, and there was only two of us now because Phagadi was now married.

He then came up with the idea of selling me into an arranged marriage. When I heard the news I felt like breaking into tears, but I had none. Have you ever been so hurt that you can’t even cry? That was me. I asked him who I would be marrying, and he said I wouldn’t know him because he was not from around. He still went ahead, though, and he told me that either the man I was marrying or his mother might be Zulu, but he did not know if he was from Zululand or not.

The man I was set to marry was the son of the richest man in town, and he was 20 years old. “Not that bad!” I thought. It was definitely better than being married to a sixty-year-old man.

I saw pain in Mapheto’s eyes when she said, “Ke maswabi hle ngwanaka, ge ebe gone le tsela engwe yago dira se, ebe ke tla txea yona, fela hlogo ya lapa e shetsi e tsere sepheto. Ago selo se nkase dirago!”

Me being me, I smiled and hugged her while thanking her for raising me into the woman I am. I assured her that she shouldn’t worry about me and that I would be okay, even though I didn’t have the same assurance myself. I reminded her of my mother because she told me I resembled her in every way.

That night I didn’t sleep a wink. Many thoughts crossed my mind, and running away was one of them, but the question was to where? I was told that I would be leaving on the third day, and that day arrived. I had a conversation with Moraapo, my brother, and we promised to never forget each other. To my sister, Phagadi, I promised to always be strong, and to the only parents I ever knew, I pledged to be forever grateful. That was it, and they took me.

We travelled for two days on a train, and we finally arrived at our destination. I was in my best dress. It was yellow, and, even though it was torn and little bit old, it was beautiful when paired with my shoes made of cow skin. I had wrapped my black curly hair with a yellow cloth, and I was holding a black plastic bag with my clothes in it.

As I stepped into the house, I was convinced that, if heaven looked like the house I was walking into, then my mother was having a good time. While I was walking around, though, I tripped a little and, when I balanced myself with a table nearby, a jug made of glass fell down and broke. Luckily no one saw anything, or at least I thought no one did.

As I was kneeling down to pick up the broken glasses, a deep voice behind me said, “Wait! You will get hurt.”

I kneeled there in shock without turning to see who it was. I was in trouble, and I was so frightened that I cried. The person left the room and quickly came back with a broom and dust pan to pick up the glass. He also had a glass of water with him, and I was shaking so much that I couldn’t even hold the glass, but he then helped me to drink the water.

Tell us: What do you think the stranger is going to do to Kedibone for breaking the jug?