First light on the high planes of Zulu land finds herds of Sotho migrants looking for settlement. Grazing cattle across fields stand motionless, early birds bring breakfast to sundry trees, the golden soil illuminates rural life in Nqutu.

The year is 1990 June 13th. This marks the adventure of the 21 year old Thulisile Ncobo who is about to go to Jozi for a fresh start in life. Her in-laws pride themselves with love and culture.

Children rush home with buckets of water, neighbours walk outside to wave to everybody. Territorial roosters are warriors of immortal fracas who call upon distant acres.

Led by young shepherds, cattle stormed in neighbouring yards to steal as much green while wolf descendants barked.

Thulisele’s homestead is cast into four huts and her father’s kraal. The great one houses her mother and father, on the far side is room for cooking food, the other two residents live in Thulisile, her sisters and their children. A den suffused with raunchy snore awakens her from bad dreams. The young burnished beauty turned over her bed, resting resistant girls, turned on the radio as she went out bare foot in her favourite Zulu raiment.

When she came back from the toilet she saw her mother, Ntombikayise Ncobo, clothed in her morning blankets with her wrapped hair coming from their hut.

“Your father wants to make an early journey to Jozi,” her mother said. “So hurry up! And tell your sisters to help you.”

“I’m busy preparing the meal from the small house,” Thulisile smirked from her mother’s urge. “I’m going to find it hard to do so because today they’re all acting weird and tired. But I will do my best mother,” she said and her mother frowned in her response.

“Thulisile, do not keep your father waiting!” her mother said with an alarmed tone. “Yesterday you had a lot of time to prepare! I wonder if you will make it in Jozi.”

Mrs Ncobo left first as they both departed from the backyard site. In the hut her oldest sister Nomalanga was using lustrous iron to unfurl Thulisile’s wardrobe during which the other four sisters sat indulged in a playful conversation.

The second oldest was Thembi, a twenty-nine year older who had a seven year old kid, Nhlanhla. The youngest was Thobile, a nineteen year old who was a few months away from giving birth. Thembisile was twenty-four with no kids, as was Thulisile.

“I wonder what kind of man you will settle for.” Nomalanga chirped and they all laughed.

The house gathered at the fortress for a prayer. Later Nhlanhla helped his grandfather outside with the bags as he loaded things in the boot of his Toyota corolla E20.

Mr Ncobo took the wheels to the dusty road whilst Thulisile waved her last goodbye to her family all impermanently fixed together by the fenced gate; they waved back at her with tenderness. Their car got passed by the Sotho migrants riding donkeys across the street with mingling sheep.

At the highway they drove slowly while the engine was so loud, the stereo played noble melody as they passed veneer copse of Nepturns, she freed her arm to rich out to her phony destiny, her eyes could reflex a new sunshine, the dawn of eternity.

Thulisile and her father entered the city of gold, success sensation stirred emotions, the face azure pirates treasure, the view of the modern castles brought passion upon her soul, with every direction she turned with the wheels. Fancy cars made way for madala-old man, young and old had something fashionable and classy to wear.

Mr Ncobo made a phone call to Thulisile’s aunt, Fikile Mthebu.

“We’re a few hours away, Mthembu,”

Mrs Mthembu was a nurse at a local clinic at Zola; she ran a small spaza shop in her garage where she had a neighbour to assist with stock and sales.

They finally made it to Soweto, the heart of South African history, home to legends like Nelson Mandela. The township streets were full on that blissful day, kids played soccer, gangsters drifted 325i BMW cars on the street corners, entertaining small crowds who made whistles, chained dogs barked at anything and everything passing by the gates. Loud noise in shebeens, entertained colour blocking afro girls with drinks on hand, boys drank and smoked on the dance floor with their stylish hats.

Thulisile and her father arrived at Mrs Mthembu house. Mrs Mthembu came out happy to see them and embraced Mr Ncobo with his clan balladry as they met at her gate. She walked them in and held some of the bags. Later they sat at the dining room with Mr Mthembu and their two kids.

Mrs Mthembu came with a tray of cakes and tea to serve the guests. Mr Ncobo was pleased with some refreshment laid on the woodwork; he acknowledged Mrs Mthembu as he took off his hat and lodged next to his chair.

“The Ncobo’s must be delighted,” said Mr Ncobo as he poured sugar to a cup of tea.

It’s my pleasure, Mr Ncobo,” Mrs Mthembu said smiling towards Thulisile. “Thulisile, can you come and join me so I can show you your room.”

The two women walked out as the kids bouncily ran passed them in the passage leaving Mr Ncobo and Mr Mthembu unaided. Thulisile’s new room was dwindled by grocery boxes and plastic thrown at every edge. Thulisile looked grateful and thanked her aunt for her grace.

“Aunty thank you for all of this,” she kept roaming her eyes.

“You can feel free this is your room,” she said smiling at Thulisile. “The grocery is for the business so please take good care of it.”

Back in the house, seating across the television set broadcasting football programme, Mr Ncobo and Mr Mthembu contest in the chat about soccer rival concerning the upcoming Soweto derby.

“You know, let me tell you a football secrete…” Mr Ncobo started.

“Orlando Pirates is one of the great soccer teams in Africa,” Mr Mthembu escalated the guffaw.

“Performance is what makes the better team,” Mr Mthembu said.

“And Keizer Chiefs is always in a good form to beat Pirates,” trying to assure Mr Ncobo with his statement.

“I still argue, Pirates is the team to beat,” Mr Ncobo said and they continued shouting until the two women came back.

Later on when everyone was settled Mr Ncobo stood up and held his hat with both hands across his abdomen.

“I appreciate the warm welcomed we got from Mthembu. But I have to rush back home now. The dark road is forbidden!” Mr Ncobo said mopping his facial outlook.

Mrs Mthembu and her husband walked him out; wandering from the gate Thulisile trailed a tail.

“The kids are doing well back home,” Mr Ncobo said.

“But you know they all think home cannot be associated with love and happiness. They do not really know what they are searching for but I have high hopes with this one. Maybe the world will reward her kindness,” he said as they strolled ahead.

“She is humble,” Mrs Mthembu said, “I don’t think she will be influenced by those local crooks giving us hard times,” they came to a standstill.

“Please greet Mam-Ncobo and everybody for us when you get home,” Mr Mthembu said as he reached out for his hand.

“I will do so,” Mr Ncobo said with a firm hand shake.

“God be with you in your journey back to Nqutu,” Mr Mthembu said and Mr Ncobo acknowledged him. Mthembu waited from the background as Mr Ncobo addressed his daughter.

“We taught you well. Live up to our expectations,” he looked at her dimmed eyes.

“I will respect them father,” Thulisile said looking aside.

Mr Ncobo drove away from their sight and carved out the corner street.

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Tell us: Do you think Thulisile will adjust to her new life in Jozi?