Zamani was being hunted down by his brothers and there was no way of telling what the future would bring when it came to recovering his inheritance. He received a call: one of his taxis was involved in an accident and he was required to get to the scene urgently. He left without hesitation, headed to the scene of the supposed accident. On his way, he was accosted by Zola and Zuki, who rained bullets upon him on sight. He resolved to defend himself, not willing to die without taking at least one of them with him. Thanks to the fortification ritual that protected him from gunshots, he escaped unscathed. On the other hand, Zuki died on the spot, and Zola took a bullet to the leg and was rushed off to hospital. That was how their evil plan failed, leaving family relations irreparably damaged.
MaNgidi got a call to rush to the hospital. She was told to start at the scene of the crime to identify the body of one of her sons. She jumped into her car and sped off to the crime scene. It was indeed her son that she found lying there, dead.
She cried until she couldn’t, consoling herself and heading back to her house alone. She tried calling Zola but he wasn’t picking up.
“I swear, whoever killed my son will follow him and lay in his own casket before Zuki’s corpse rots!” she cried.
She didn’t know that it was Zamani who’d shot her son in self-defence, in the gruesome inheritance feud between her late husband’s sons. As soon as she got to hospital, she called Zola’s nurse aside and begged her to tell her what condition he was in.
“Mrs Mkhize, your son is injured, but thankfully the bullet only splintered his leg and severed his foot. We’ll have to keep him for two months until he’s recovered,” the nurse said.
MaNgidi left the hospital in a foul mood. As she was about to exit, the police officer in charge of the Mkhize case barred him from doing so.
“Mrs Mkhize, your son will have to be jailed as soon as he’s released from hospital, so his case can be tried in a court of law. I hope you understand. My condolences on the death of your other son. However, they are the ones who opened fire at Zamani first, forcing him to defend himself,” said the detective.
That weekend, Zuki was buried, with the family blaming Zamani for killing his own brother despite knowing that MaNgidi and her boys had started the feud that was now threatening to tear the family apart. Some were on Zamani’s side, others on MaNgidi’s…who knew where it would end!
After the funeral, the court sent notice of the start date of the trail. Zamani stayed in hiding, fearing for his life at the hands of MaNgidi. He knew that now that he had killed Zuki, she would hunt him down and avenge her son’s death and the injuries suffered by her remaining son, who was now in jail.
MaNgidi now lived alone, baying for Zamani’s blood and vowing to enjoy his inheritance alone. Lo and behold, Zamani still had not been able to retrieve his assets. His life felt so stagnant, he was starting to have suicidal thoughts due to not being able to take care of his kids.
Just in time, Zamani’s lawyers sent him notice that he had to come in and sign some papers so they could give him just enough to live on.
Zamani patiently waited for the rest of his money, surviving off the profits of his two taxis, though this was hardly enough to cover his needs, especially since he still had to pay his drivers.
The day of the court case arrived. A hearing was had and the matter of his attempted murder at the hands of his brothers was tried. The court heard all sides and deliberated at length. The verdict was finally reached: MaNgidi was found guilty of conspiring to murder Zamani, and was made to promise to keep him safe from harm ‘or else’. Were anything ever to happen to him (for instance, if he were to be shot), she would be the prime suspect and arrested immediately.
“It’s rather shameful that a mother’s meddling should cause a deceased man’s sons to quarrel over money and end up killing each other!” the judge said, admonishing her, as he peered out from behind his thick glasses. He continued to give her an earful for trying to kill her husband’s son.
The following weekend, Zamani’s money and assets were lawfully reverted to him. By then, MaNgidi had aged, and her strength was failing her from her frequent trips around town, going up and down, though she couldn’t drive properly any more. Her surviving son came and apologised to Zamani and the two reconciled.
Together they did their best to revive their father’s businesses. They eventually restored the late Mkhize’s legacy. It was clear to all with eyes that the hatchet was buried. Some remarked how proud they late mogul would be.
*
Zamani began paying off his debts, then he paid MaNgidi a visit.
“I’m sorry for shooting and killing Zuki. For hurting Zola too—” he said.
Ashamed of the role she’d played in their family tragedy, the old crone relented. There was no disputing that Zamani and Zola’s business partnership was so successful, it neatly earned her the money she had plotted to have Zamani killed for! She could see that it was in her best interests to apologise to the boy too.
MaNgidi agreed to the offer of a truce and laid down her weapons. She had tried and failed to murder Zamani, losing one of her sons in the process. Her days as the serpent of kwaNongoma were behind her. Frail old woman that she now was, she took on a sheepish demeanour.
“I hope you can one day forgive me for your fiancee’s death,” she said, tears in her eyes.
Zamani’s own eyes started to water. It was too painful a memory to confront without triggering heartache. Yet MaNgidi was genuinely begging for his forgiveness, even acknowledging that she paid the men who came after him on that fateful night. The two drank water from the same calabash and found appeasement in their own ways. There would no longer be any bad blood between them going forward.
MaNgidi remembered that her husband had not honoured the custom of integrating the boy formally into his bloodline. She instructed that a herd of cattle should be driven to Zamani’s mother’s people, so the boy would receive their blessing and be ceremoniously released to take his rightful place at his father’s homestead. He was now recognised as a true scion of the Mkhize family. This way, harmony was finally restored, paving the path for new beginnings.
Zamani prospered and followed in his father’s footsteps, gaining similar acclaim to his senior for being the tycoon of Mgungundlovu, who was spotted regularly riding past in his flashy car.
*
Zamani moved to Joburg, where he bought a plot and built a block of flats, which brought in 200 thousand rands a monthly in rentals. Like his father, he was a good leader and a just employer. He promoted his taxi drivers to security officers in his new property development. This ensured that he was able to leave the taxi industry for good.
“At last, I finally get my unexpected inheritance,” mused Zamani.
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