Thekeza was a local business man who owned a shop. It was a hardware store. He travelled to the city often on the train to go and buy stock for the shop. Thekeza would leave his bride for months at a time. Rumours began to circulate around town that he had a mistress out in the city. They shared a baby – a little boy. Those who had seen him say he was the spitting image of this father. They say he went everywhere with the lover and the son when he is in the city. The little boy could have been about 5 or 6 years old. He stuttered when he spoke, much like his father. Thekeza did not have any children with Sonele, his wife in Kasilami. She was barren.

One day, the train pulled into the train station as usual and Thekeza descended with a little boy. The son’s resemblance to Thekeza answered the question of who the little boy might be. The other women at the markets began to whisper amongst themselves why Sonele never told them about Thekeza’s son. Others wondered if she knew Thekeza had a son in the city.

Adultery was becoming the norm in Kasilami since the men started working in the city. Sonele would not be the first wife to receive news from her husband that he has fathered children outside the marriage. Many men in Kasilami who worked out in the city, fathered children with other women out in the city, much to the disapproval of the Bishop.

Thekeza arrived with his son at his home that he shares with his wife Sonele. He was so consumed in his own joy that he did not consider that this might impact her negatively. That she might not receive him, his son and his news. Word of this little boy, had already reached his wife from the women that sell at the market, by the time he arrived at his home. He found her sobbing and distraught.

She felt hurt and betrayed. But he did not understand. She was barren. He believed he had done a good thing to find her a helper, a child. He believed he was delivering good news to her; news that should fill her heart with pride. News he had wanted to tell her for a long time but had to wait until the little boy was at the right age to travel on the train to Kasilami and meet her.

“I wanted to tell you every day, my wife. I wanted to tell you every single day since he was conceived. But you know the city is no place for good women like you. I could not take you out there to meet him. The city is wild and dangerous and uncontained. I knew one day he would grow up, get on the train and come here with me. He is mine. He is yours too. I brought him here so we can live with him. Raise him,” he said with tears in his eyes

“Finally I have an heir. Be happy for me my wife.” He pleaded with her. But she just kept on sobbing. No words parted from her lips. She sobbed bitterly laying on the floor in her bedroom. She found no joy in the proposal her husband was giving to her. She did not want this child, or to know him or to raise him. In her mind, that son represented the sin and darkness that prevails in the city. She struggled to raise her head and look at her husband. She chose not to raise her head and look at the little boy that had come to her home with him. She cared little what the little boy’s name was and cared even less to know about his mother.

She crawled on her knees out of her bedroom and retreated to the guest room, to find quietness, and reason and God. But it did not help, the whole time she was in there she found no quietness, no reason, no God.

People around town began to talk about Thekeza, Sonele and the little boy that was the spitting image of his father. Since the day Thekeza came off the train with the little boy, Sonele was never seen at the markets again. She never came to barter or buy anything. She did not attend church anymore, neither was she seen present at the court on Tuesdays.

Four days had now passed. Sonele still remained locked in the guest bedroom. Thekeza went on about his business wearing a mask of happiness. He confided to a hand full of men he trusted, that Sonele was struggling to accept the child. But to the rest, he gave testament of a happy family moving forward. They each advised him the best way they knew how, but the message was very common, they all believed all she needed was time.

One day, late at night, a little past midnight, Sonele awoke and began to pack a small a bag. She had made up her mind to leave her home and go and seek the counsel of the Bishop. Ashamed of what people might be saying about her and her situation, she wanted to move in the covering of the night. Thekeza was deeply affected by his wife’s reaction to the news about his son. He had not seen her for days. He had not seen Sonele since the day she crawled out of their bedroom. Every evening he lay awake, wondering to himself, how he could make the situation better for Sonele.

Sonele finally finished packing and began to head out of the house. Thekeza began to hear footsteps moving inside house and he assumed a burglar had broken into their home. There was a shovel lying near his bed. It was part of the new stock he had come back with on the train from the city. He picked up the shovel and bashed the figure he found in his kitchen with it. When the figure fell to the floor, he quickly turned on the light and regrettably found his beloved wife lying dead in a pool of blood.

He called out her name in total hysteria. “SONELE!” “SONELE!” “SONELE” but it was too late for her.

There was no local medical centre in Kasilami. The closest clinic was in the city, a little over an hour away. There was no train at that time of night; one had to wait until the morning. He ran outside with a torch and began to blow his whistle. At first no air left his lungs. In his frustration he threw his torch on the floor and broke it. But his neighbours were already up and rushing to his home after they heard the sound of his uncontrollably crying.

He was devastated beyond human comprehension. He blew the whistle and blew it and blew it even though his neighbours were surrounding him. He blew for help. He blew it to God. He blew it hoping God might come down and raise Sonele from the chains of death.

“I need help. Oh I need help,” were the only words he said. He wanted everyone to wake up. He wanted them to come and see, to come and help him, to come and help her, but mostly to come and wake her up. He was desperate. He was wailing. He was covered in blood. Sonele was dead. He had killed her.

***

Tell us: In a trial, how would you find Thekeza, guilty or not? Why?