Sorrow has engulfed Fezile. She glances at her husband, Lindani, with worrisome eyes. She exhales, but the weight on her shoulders doesn’t disappear. There is nothing Fezile wants more in the world than to conceive a baby. She has been married to Lindani for five years but she hasn’t gotten pregnant yet.

Fezile checks her app on her cellphone. It keeps track of her ovulation process and it tells her that today is the perfect day to conceive.

“Let’s try again today, my love. Today could be the day I conceive,” says Fezile, cuddling next to Lindani on the sofa where he is watching TV.

“Your app doesn’t work. It’s a waste of time. We have been trying for five years but nothing has happened. That is proof it doesn’t work, my love,” says Lindani.

“I know you are as frustrated as I am, my love. But I’m trying to come up with a solution,” says Fezile.

“I have been telling you for a long time now that we need to visit a traditional healer. We are African so we shouldn’t forget our roots. Some things just need the help of traditional medicine,” says Lindani.

“Lindani, you know how I feel about traditional healers and sangomas. Most of them are just con men out to get people’s money. My belief is that God will help us get through this. God will give us the baby we want.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Fezile. I’m not forcing you to go to a sangoma, all I’m saying is we need to try everything we can. I’m not starting an argument with you. I’m just saying we may find a solution in a sangoma.”

“Life isn’t fair. I look around and see unmarried teenagers getting pregnant every day, while I am married and don’t have children. Why is life like this?”

“I love you, Fezile, and I’ll never stop loving you. I’ll keep loving you whether we have a child or not. We made a vow before God and a priest and our families that we will be together in good and bad times, until death do us part.”

“Such lovely words, my husband. Your words give me hope and strength. I was scared you were going to leave me because I can’t bear you a child. I know how much you want to have children.”

“We will have children, my love.”

Fezile is a teacher at Ocean View Primary School in Chatsworth. She decided to pursue a teaching career in primary education because she loves children.

She parks her car at the teacher’s parking area and locks the door. All her learners run to her. Some help to carry her files and her bag. Others just buzz around her as she heads to class.

Things are as usual in her first lesson. She is teaching Maths and the children are in tune with the lesson. She has her face to the chalk board when she hears one of her learners sniffling.

“Likho is crying, Mam,” says another learner, before Fezile can turn.

She turns and walks over to Likho’s desk. “Why are you crying, Likho?”

Likho doesn’t answer. The whole class is looking at the young girl. Fezile decides to escort Likho outside.

“Talk to me, sisi. What is wrong?”

“I’m hungry, Mam. Mama didn’t cook yesterday so today I didn’t eat breakfast and she didn’t give me a lunchbox,” says Likho, her tears splashing on the concrete floor.

“Who do you stay with at home besides your mother?”

“It’s just me and Mama, Mam.”

“Where does your Mama work?”

“She doesn’t work, Mam.”

It suddenly makes sense to Fezile why Likho’s marks have dropped this term. Last term she was doing the best of all the leaners in her class. But her performance has been steadily decreasing in the past two months.

Fezile takes Likho to her car and offers sandwiches to the little girl. Likho gobbles down the sandwiches quickly. It hurts to see this child starving. Fezile and Likho get back to class but she is worried. She wonders what kind of life this bright little girl is living.

Fezile and Lindani are having supper in the evening, talking about how their days went. Lindani’s mother, MaMfeka, calls him on his cellphone. He is eating so he switches his cellphone to speaker mode.

“How are you, Ma?” says Lindani.

“I’m well, my child. How are you?”

“I’m also well, Ma.”

“How is Fezile?”

“She is well, Mama. She is here next to me.”

“Has she conceived yet? I also want a grandchild like everyone else. All the women at pension talk about their grandchildren. Some even come with them to the pension pay-out – but not me,” says MaMfeka.

“Ma, please just calm down. Things happen in their own time,” says Lindani. The disappointment in his voice is evident even as he tries to disguise it.

“There’s this man I know. A good traditional healer. He can help Fezile with this problem of hers.”

“My problem!?” Fezile blurts out.

Tell us what you think: Do most people immediately think failing to get pregnant is the ‘fault’ of the woman?