Nkanyiso and MaNdlovu stood in an empty room that was built onto the side of a small church. They were before a tall, old man who was leaning heavily on a stick, his eyes grey with age. He was wearing blue and white attire with a cross down the front: the clothes of a churchman.

Nkanyiso looked at him and then at his gogo. No-one spoke and eventually he cleared his throat. Gogo looked up, and began.

“Please, our Prophet, we come to you for help,” MaNdlovu whispered. “Help me to break the curse that has been over our family since my late husband brought pain into our lives. My grandson and his wife and their unborn children deserve happiness. The burden of my husband’s infidelity and my son Mzi’s madness should not be theirs to carry any longer. Please sir, they are young. No woman should go through what Nombulelo has been through.”

The Prophet listened to MaNdlovu, his ash-coloured face reflecting nothing of what was on his mind. The old woman had gone down on her knees at his feet, her head bowed. Nkanyiso stood behind her, his thundering heart finally slowing in the presence of this calm, but determined man.

“I want you to know that what happened before, was not your fault,” the Prophet responded. Then, turning to Nkanyiso, he said, “Your parents failed to heed advice. They were given instructions, but they turned away.”

Nkanyiso felt his father’s shame burn through his blood.

“Your wife too has carried within her great shame,” the Prophet said, as if reading Nkanyiso’s mind. “What was done to her, and what was done to you, must now be left in the past. These actions by people you trusted have wounded you both but, with God’s love, you can heal and move forward. I will protect your wife from the wrath of your ancestors. It would not be fair if she died for their secrets and sins. I will take you to her now.”

He helped the old woman to her feet and beckoned for Nkanyiso to follow, leading them away from the church to a small hut higher on the hillside. There, lying on a mat in the sunlight streaming into the doorway, was Nombulelo.

Her face was deathly pale and she looked defeated and defenceless.

“My love!” Nkanyiso went down on his knees beside her, tears falling into the sand. He could see his wife had been in some kind of a spiritual battle, but she had made it. She was a true warrior. He lifted her gently into his arms and her arms went around his neck. “I cannot imagine an hour not knowing what’s happening to you,” he said.

“We are free,” Nombulelo whispered. “The Prophet says the curse has been removed. He said if we have it in our hearts to be able to forgive those who caused us so much pain, it will help us. I don’t know if I am ready for that yet, but I feel that the worst is over now. Uncle can’t hurt me any more. Your grandfather too must be released from your anger.” She looked up at MaNdlovu when she said this.

The Prophet took MaNdlovu’s arm and the young couple heard them both praying. God was in their lives and with his presence came a deep sense of peace and hope.

Outside a breeze picked up and they left the hut, Nkanyiso helping Nombulelo. The Prophet did not speak to them as he lead them back to MaNdlovu’s home, but murmured constantly, “God, protect your children.”

***

Tell us: Most religions advise forgiving those who have wronged us. Do you agree with this? If so, can you say why it is a good thing to do?