The group of mourners gathered in the graveyard on a hot Saturday morning, singing hymns. Tshepiso was sitting under the tent next to his father, supported by family and friends. His heart ached as he watched his mother, Refilwe’s, casket lowered into the ground. His girlfriend, Malebo, squeezed his hand. He knew that she really cared but all he wanted was to be alone. He felt sick with grief, but his eyes were dry. The men shovelled sand into the grave as the church choir sang. Finally, his mother was laid to rest and Pastor Ledimo gave the last prayer. The crowd dispersed, chatting and laughing.

Malebo wanted to come home with him but he told her that he just wanted to sleep and that he would call her later. He lay on his bed and the tears came. He wished he could just see his mother one last time and tell her how much he loved and missed her. Him – her only, precious child.

“Tshepiso. May I come in?” It was his father, tapping on the door. Tshepiso did not answer. He got up, took his wallet, and pushed past Pastor Mathata on his way out.

“Tshepiso, my son, can we talk for a moment?” his father called after him. “I know you’re hurting, son. But you can’t avoid me forever. Let me help you. Let us mourn together as a family.”

“Help me? How can you possibly do that? Will you bring Mma back?” Tshepiso fired back.

“No-one can do that, son. Only God knows why everything happened the way it did. My heart is also bleeding. But I know that God had his plans …”

“Don’t tell me about God and his plans. You killed Mma!” Tshepiso said in rage, “I hate you, and your stupid church! Just leave me alone. I don’t want to be your son anymore.”

“Please son, I’m begging you … don’t say that.”

“I’ll say it again and again! To tell the truth … I wish it was you! I wish you were the one lying in that casket. I hate you!” Tshepiso yelled as he ran down the passage.

“Tshepiso!” Pastor Mathata called. “Wait! Please, don’t let anger and pain control you. Please, come back!”

But Tshepiso stormed out of the house. He did not care about anything. Life was nothing but a dark hole to him. A speeding taxi nearly knocked him down as he crossed the road, forcing him to come to his senses. Frightened by the narrow escape, he sat on a rock at the next corner, his face wet with tears.

“Eita Tshepiso, my bra,” his friend Martin greeted him. Tshepiso did not say a word in reply; he was lost in his thoughts.

“Tshepiso!”

“What?” Startled, Tshepiso wiped his tears quickly away with his hands.

“Ao monna! I’m greeting you, boy.”

Tshepiso sighed deeply. “Sure man.”

Martin sat on the rock, his back leaning against Tshepiso’s. “Why are you sitting here alone man?”

“I can’t be at home anymore. Those people are driving me crazy. I just want to be alone.”

“Don’t worry … it’s over now. They will leave soon.” Martin paused for a moment. “Eish, I’m sorry for your loss, man. I still can’t believe gore Magriza is gone, you know. This life is unfair, but you will forget…with time,” he continued, shaking his head sadly.

“Mxm … I don’t think I’ll ever forget her death. I can still hear her scream in my head. I don’t want to forget her.”

“Eish. That’s sad, bra. I’m sorry for you. Nna I just thank all those people who came to her funeral. Phela it was as if we were burying a queen vandag.”

Tshepiso sighed.“Let’s not speak about that, man. Please, Martin.”

“Sure, skeem. I understand,” Martin said, throwing pebbles onto the tarred road.

“I wish I could just vanish into a different world. Somewhere where I’ll forget about everything. Even if it’s just for a second.”

“Why don’t you call Malebo? She is your girlfriend, mos. Take her out and be cosy. Le chilenyana, so. That might help.”

“Ola guys,” their friend Dukes greeted. They hadn’t noticed him come up. “This guy doesn’t need Malebo today, Martin. He needs beer – and a girl who will treat him like a man. Not a girl who can’t even give him a kiss, jo,” he continued, posing tough and turning his cap backwards.

“Sure Dukes. I see you’re being you already. Trying to persuade Tshepiso to sleep with Malebo as always.”

“Ao … come on, jo. What’s the use of having a girlfriend if you don’t sleep with her? Come on guys. That’s boring.”

Tshepiso shook his head, remaining silent.

“So, Tshepiso, my man. Are you ready, my autie?”

“Ready? Ready for what?”

“Phela your mother just got buried today, jo.” He paused, pushing his right hand into his jeans pocket and coming out with a pack of cigarettes. “Eish,” he continued, lighting a cigarette. “May her soul rest in peace. She was a good woman. Mamoruti ka nnete,” he said, and took a long pull on the cigarette then breathed out a cloud of smoke.

Tshepiso took a deep breath, trying hard to keep from crying.

“We should have after-tears in her memory. It’s the in-thing, nou. Let’s go to the tavern and have some beer, gents.”

Tshepiso shook his head.

“How can you ask me that? You know I don’t drink. And Papa–” he said, then paused. He wanted to say his father would kill him, but he didn’t respect or care about Pastor Mathata anymore.

“I know, but today is different, man. I don’t think your father will mind. Phela the pain of losing a mother is terrible. I know. Alcohol is the only medicine that can heal you at the moment. Believe me.”

“No way.”

“OK, fine.” Dukes paused, smoking, “But let’s go there … just to cool our heads and be with majita. I can see that you’re thinking too much. I’ll buy you guys a cold drink. I just want to support you, Tshepiso. You’re our friend, man. Friends stick together in times like this.”

As they headed to the tavern Tshepiso wondered if Dukes really was his friend. The only time he got to be with Dukes was when he was with Martin. In fact, Dukes was Martin’s friend, and he, Tshepiso, was Martin’s neighbour and childhood friend. In fact, Dukes was nothing but a thug, he thought. He was older than both Tshepiso and Martin, by two years – twenty to their eighteen.

At the tavern, a group of young men were sitting outside, drinking beer. The music was deafening.

“Hei guys. Zwakalang hier, majita,” one of them called to them. It was Stanza, Dukes’ friend. “Just sit down. I’ll go and buy something to drink.”

The three sat on the plastic chairs and joined in the conversation. They were talking about cars, arguing about which one had the fastest acceleration. Tshepiso realised that they had come from his mother’s funeral – all were wearing formal jackets.

He tried hard to be part of the conversation, but his thoughts were elsewhere. All he could hear was Refilwe’s scream in his mind. Then his cellphone rang. It was his father. He put the phone on silent and ignored it. Anger mounted inside him. Perhaps he should drink that beer after all? Just to stop the pain in his heart, he told himself. What was the point of listening to the father who killed his mother? If alcohol could help dull the pain then it was good for him.

Stanza came back with a six pack of beers. “Tshepiso my bra … I think today you need this. A cold beer, man,” he said, smiling.

Tshepiso watched as Dukes took one can and gulped it down. Martin took one too.

“I’m joining them, bra,” Martin said sheepishly opening the can. He had only ever had a few sips of beer. Tshepiso stared at his friend for a few seconds, before taking a can himself. He popped it open.

The first can was bitter. He forced the beer down his throat. By the third can he had begun to like the taste.

They sat at the tavern for hours, talking and drinking and dancing. Tshepiso was feeling better, the tragic events fading into the background like a dream. Now he wished Malebo was with him. With that thought, he took out his cellphone and punched her digits.

“Hello.”

“Babes.”

“Tshepiso? Where are you? I can’t hear you well because of the noise.”

“I’m at the tavern. Can you come? I miss you, my love. I just want to see you.”

“At the tavern, Tshepiso? Are you drinking?” Malebo was shocked.

“Please babe. Just come and be with me. It’s after-tears. Please babe. I need you here with me. My heart needs you.”

“Hai! I don’t know, Tshepiso. You know gore me and the taverns … hai. No Tshepiso.”

“Please! Just for today. You’re the only person who can make me survive this horrible day. Please, my love.”

“OK … I’ll come. But I don’t like this, Tshepiso. I’m just doing it because I know what you’re going through.”

“Thank you … thank you, my love.”

“So … Malebo agreed to come?” Dukes asked, giving Tshepiso a knowing smile.

“Yes.”

“Bingo! You hit the jackpot, ntwana.”

“What do you mean?”

“Phela that means she is ready to give you the cake, jo. O ya verstana gore chicks like Malebo don’t come to taverns, mos. This is your chance, bra. You must get what is yours tonight. Cut that cake. You waited long enough for it,” Dukes said with a macho smirk.

The group burst out laughing.

“Just shut up Dukes,” Tshepiso said. In that moment he wondered what it would be like. What if she got angry and rejected him. No, if there was a time to have sex with Malebo, it was tonight, he told himself as he opened another beer.”

***

Tell us: In this situation, what would you have advised Malebo to do?