As Teboho takes a taxi in to Joburg, he thinks of his mother and what will happen if she dies. Will I find the person I think is Mohau? What will I say to him and how will he respond to me?

His phone rings. To his surprise, it’s Kedibone. He looks at it for a moment, his mind racing. What will I say to her? Is she still angry at me? I should’ve called her first.

The phone stops ringing. But after a few seconds it starts ringing once more. It’s Kedibone again.

Tentatively, Teboho answers: “Hello.” His heart is soaring.

“Hi … Teboho.”

For a moment they are silent.

“You sound like you’re in a car Teboho.”

“Yes, I’m in a taxi.”

“Oh … OK. Are you alright though?”

“Yes I am Kedibone. Yourself?”

“I heard that your mother was admitted again.”

“Yes, but I hope she’ll be fine.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to, it’s just that…”

“What? You think I’m still angry with you?”

“Yes. Sorry for not coming to you to ask for forgiveness … or even calling.”

“No, Teboho. Maybe I’m the one who needed to do that.”

“But I’m the one who made you angry. You tried to stop me but I didn’t listen.”

“I heard what happened and I knew that you wouldn’t start a fight over something so silly. It’s just that I don’t like to see someone I love being in a fight. The last time I saw someone I loved in a fight he was killed and … and that was my … father.”

Teboho gasps and a moment’s silence follows. “I’m so sorry to hear that Kedibone!” Teboho’s voice is intense, but soft.

“I hope that your mother gets well soon, Teboho.”

“Yes, I hope so too Kedibone.”

“I’ll phone you again. My class is just about to begin. I just wanted to let you know that I’m not angry with you.”

“Kedibone, thanks so much for letting me know that. I was so worried!”

“I love you, Teboho.”

“I love you too, Kedibone.”

*****

Teboho walks on straight to Newtown. He passes the Market Theatre and goes to the garage in the next street. Now that he realises that his search for Mohau has begun, he questions himself: Should I just enter and ask for him? But what will I say when they ask me who I am?

He remembers a story his friend Zama once told him about a boy who claimed to be the son of a rich man and how he got caught lying and he confessed that he’d only wanted the rich man’s money and that his poor mother sent him.

Nervously Teboho waits, hoping he’ll see the man outside. He is scared to go and ask him to come out. An hour passes. He waits for the lunch hour but nothing happens and no-one comes out. Hungry, he decides to go to down town Jozi to busk and make money for food, as he has only enough money to go home.

He manages to get an open spot at the corner of Bree Street and dances for people passing by. They throw many coins. He decides to buy food at the garage where he was waiting. As he enters the shop on the premises he looks around constantly, hoping he will see ‘Mohau’. No man like Mohau in sight. He selects a toasted bunny chow and buys a mango juice. He pays at the till and goes outside to eat, still ever-watchful.

Not realizing that he is sitting in a parking area, he jumps aside when a four by four Nevada hoots at him to move away. The driver climbs out of the car and Teboho notices he’s holding documents.

Turning to look at the boy he hooted at, his eyes meet Teboho’s. He stares at Teboho for a moment. It’s him!

Do I tell him now? I must! It’s my only chance! But what do I say? Like a drum, Teboho’s heart pounds loudly in his ears.

“Hello my boy, can I help you?” the man asks, noticing how Teboho is staring at him.

Teboho looks closely at him. His features are similar to the man in the photo. Dark in colour, with short hair, tall and formal. But then he asks himself, What will happen if it’s not Mohau?

He plucks up all his courage to talk to him, takes a breath and says: “Yes Sir. I’m looking for Mohau, who comes from Roma in Lesotho.”

The man looks at Teboho with his eyebrows suddenly raised and a frown appearing on his face.

“And who are you, young man?”

As he asks, Teboho can hear by his accent that he’s from Lesotho.

“My name is Teboho. My mother is Pontso from Roma in Lesotho but now she lives in Protea South.”

The stranger looks puzzled and it seems to Teboho that he’s trying to remember a woman called Pontso.

“You’re correct. My name is Mohau and I am from Roma in Lesotho, but I have never heard of a Pontso in my life.”

Thoughts jumble in Teboho’s mind. Maybe my mother has been lying to me? But his name is Mohau. That’s what my mother said. He is surely the one who I’m searching for!

He can’t bring himself to respond to the man.

“My boy, I think we should talk somewhere private. Let me just put these files in my office.”

Teboho watches him as he walks quickly into to the garage shop, returning with two bottles – one juice and one water – and he gives Teboho the juice.

“Let’s talk inside the car.”

It’s the first time Teboho has sat inside a car like this, a car with comfortable seats. The smell of it tells him that it’s still new. The man closes the window and suddenly it becomes quiet. Teboho opens his juice and takes a sip. As Mohau listens, he begins to tell his story, hesitating at first, but growing in confidence as he continues.

“My name is Teboho and Pontso is my mother, the only biological family I know. I’ve been living in Protea South with her for the whole seventeen years of my life, in a one-room shack. I started to ask her about my family when I realised that my friends always talk about their families and for me I don’t have a story to tell because I haven’t seen them. But then I kept on seeing this man in my dreams and mountains that I have never seen in my life. I kept asking my mother but it was not nice because the more I asked, the more we would fight. But now, since she’s not well, she tells me that she’s from Roma and loved you and came to Johannesburg to look for you, Mohau. She told me that your aunt found you a job here in South Africa but you didn’t go back to check on her.”

Mohau opens his water bottle and drinks. He puts the pieces together. He’s in shock; can’t believe what he’s hearing. There is a long silence, then he talks.

“I knew her as Kelebogile. I searched for her in Johannesburg after her grandmother told me she’d come to look for me. I didn’t know she was pregnant. Joburg is a big city; I didn’t know where to start searching but I searched. If I knew that she’d changed her name to Pontso maybe I would have found her. She must have done that to start a new life, away from the scandal.”

Teboho can’t help it, and cries. Mohau himself looks stricken.

“Don’t cry my boy, you have found me now. I just need to see her. Where is she?”

“She is in hospital … she is not good.”

“Let’s go!”

They drive straight to the hospital. Teboho is excited but overwhelmed that he’s finally found Mohau. It’s all such a rush and he doesn’t understand why Mohau didn’t know about him. But there will be time to ask later.

They arrive at the hospital and go straight to the ward. A curtain is drawn around Pontso’s bed. She is barely conscious. Mohau hangs back, not wanting to give her a shock.

Terrified that she is too far gone to hear him, Teboho whispers, “Mama, your name, is it Kelebogile?”

“Yes my son,” she murmurs and loses consciousness.

Mohau turns to his son. “Teboho, we have to get her back to Lesotho, to her home and family, before we lose her.”

A doctor announces that visiting time is over. Mohau goes to speak to him.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes sir, can I help? If you’re asking for extra time then I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t help.”

“I just want to know if it’s possible to take this woman home to Lesotho.”

“For now her condition is not good … but maybe … if she has stabilized.”

“How soon do you think that might be?”

“Maybe give it a week. She’s picking up a little, better than yesterday.”

“OK thanks. I’ll come tomorrow and start to make proper arrangements.”

Mohau goes with Teboho to Protea South. He has not been there in his life but he knows that it’s a township crowded with a mix of South Africans and people from other countries in Africa. He looks around him. Most are poor people and refugees living in rough structures made of plywood and corrugated metal and plastic.

They drive along the street where Teboho and his mother live and Mohau is shocked to see the dirt and how close together the shacks are and the rubbish in the street. He drives slowly to avoid colliding with the people who stare at the car.

“You know Teboho,” he remarks, “one day my friend from Pimville told me that people in this township will rather run away from a cow than from a car”

Teboho laughs.

Masabata waves her hand energetically, amazed as she sees Teboho in the car.

“Who is that woman, Teboho?”

“She is Masabata, one of the liquor sellers. That’s her shebeen, Lemon Twist. We used to live at the back of her house where she has a spare room, but now we live in that shack over there.” He points.

As Teboho climbs out of the car with Mohau, he finds his dance group members waiting for him. He introduces them to Mohau.

“These are my friends who I dance with.”

“What type of dance do you do?”

“Pantsula”

“Oh that’s great! It’s good to meet you guys; my name is Mohau. I’m … er … Teboho’s father.” As Mohau says these words, introduces himself as his father, Teboho feels his spirit lift as though he’s flying through the sky.

Zama gapes at Teboho, excited that their search on Facebook worked. The others stand with open mouths, exclaiming, disbelieving.

“It’s good to meet you too, Sir,” says Themba, finding words at last. “Teboho told you that we are in the same dance group and I’m the leader. We came to check if he is fine since we heard that his mother was admitted.”

Mohau nods and steps inside the shack as Teboho is left to speak to his friends.

“Guys I will have to go to Lesotho but I’ll let you know what happens since my mother is going back there for good … to her family.”

“We are happy for you Teboho! If it happens that you go and live in Lesotho too, then you will have to spread the pantsula passion that side.”

“I will Themba, only if it happens – but know that you will always be my main group.”

Teboho follows Mohau into the shack where he finds his father sitting on the bed shaking his head. “I can’t believe Pontso lived here for seventeen years of her life raising you alone! And all the time I could have… ah well…”

“Yes, we lived here. There was nowhere else to go,” Teboho answers in a matter-of-fact way.

“Teboho, I’ll make arrangements for us to leave. Are you attending school?”

“Yes, I’m doing Grade 11.”

“I’ll have to speak to your school principal. We’ll be gone for a couple of weeks.”

*****

A week passes and Pontso is stable enough to travel. Mohau prepares everything for their journey and drives to Protea South to fetch Teboho, who has packed up the shack.

As he waits for Mohau, Teboho reflects again in amazement on how his life has changed so dramatically. At last he’s found his father – a well-off man – and now they have the remainder of their lives to build a relationship. He loves Kedibone, he’s doing well in school and already making money as a pantsula dancer.

The only sadness is his mother’s illness. He fervently hopes she will return to health under the care of her family. They wept when they heard she was alive; to them it felt like a miracle; like she had risen from the dead.

If she does not recover, I hope I get a chance to talk to my mother again so that, if she dies, we will have resolved all our issues, he thinks.

His phone rings; its Kedibone. So much has happened in such a short time; there is so much to tell her.

“I’m leaving just now with my father. We’re taking my mother back home to Lesotho as she needs to see her family and be at rest.”

“That’s great Teboho. And now you will have the opportunity to meet them. I’m happy for you, my love. And they will love you, I know.”

“Thanks very much.”

“If you don’t come back from Lesotho, I’ll fetch you, so don’t make that mistake!”

Teboho laughs “I won’t my love!”

***

Tell us what you think: What big adjustments will Teboho have to make in his new life? Will his relationship with Kedibone survive now he is leaving the shack to be with his father?