Just before I could reach Boyne taxi rank, the Queue Marshall and another taxi driver stopped me. I stopped and opened the window. They came towards my taxi and the Queue Mashall said, “Oya kae wena monna? asking where I was going.
“I am going to Turf my brother and I have an appointment at 08:00. May I just pass because I am actually running late?”
“OK boy, please come and report if you are going to rank today.”
“OK, king!” I replied while pressing down the accelerator.
At least they did not see me taking this girl on the way, we would have fought. I had to talk to that lady I couldn’t help it.
“So what’s your name mabebeza?” I asked.
“I am Mahlodi,”
“OK and I am Thabo but you can call me T’bo Touch.” We both laughed and I continued, “Where am I dropping you off?”
“You can drop me at Magistrate, I am going to Home Affairs.”
“We are actually both going that way, I am going to see a psychologist.”
“A psychologist? Are you a drug or alcohol addict?”
“Come on girl, we don’t see psychologists for the same reasons. I need advice regarding work and social related issues,” I said, while laughing.
I had to lie to her, she was not the psychologist. I could not tell her that I was living with HIV and that I was a sex addict. Besides, she was a target.
“I think it’s wise of you to recognise your weaknesses and go out there to seek help from those who know better than you do about the matter.”
“Wow, you must be the psychologist that I have an appointment with today, aren’t you?”
She laughed.
By that time we were already heading to the parking. As I was parking the car I asked, “May I come and fetch you later? There’s always a queue at Home Affairs.”
“Nah… I’ll be fine…”
“I insist…”
“OK then…so your money…” she began searching her hand bag.
“No it’s fine, I was just helping you out. Just give me your number so that I can contact you when I am done,” I said.
She gave me her number as requested and we went our separate ways.
Dr Angy Mamabolo was an educated young lady. She studied psychology up to doctorate level, which is the reason why we call her a doctor. She was too expensive for me to afford. My parents had already paid her. I did not want counselling but my parents convinced me and because they even insisted to get me such an expensive psychologist.
I was right next to a door with a sign written, DR A. L. MAMABOLO. I knocked and she responded with her soft relaxed voice. “Come in.”
I did not know what kind of a person she was. All I had been told by my father about her was that she was not that much older than me. She had helped my father with alcohol addiction; yes I was stressing my father. He just couldn’t admit that I was the reason for all he did. I used to steal his car and he would always find used condoms in it. I sometimes fought with him when he was trying to discipline me. I needed help and I thought Dr Mamabolo was my solution to this complex life that I was living.
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Tell us what you think: Do you think Thabos can be helped?