“Yes, your problem! It’s no secret that you cannot have children. In our days there’d already be a second wife in that marriage,” says MaMfeka.

“But why are you speaking like this, Ma?” asks Fezile.

“Please calm down, my love,” says Lindani. He picks up the phone, switches off the speaker and puts it to his ear.

“Your mother hates me!” Fezile says and storms off to the bedroom.
“Ma, please can you just give us time. We want to see fertility specialists. But if they fail we will go to your traditional healer.”

“Fine. And I take it Fezile has run off crying like she always does. That is one spoilt girl you chose for a wife. She must–”

Lindani ends the call. He finds Fezile crying under the duvet.

“My love,” says Lindani, slowly peeling off the duvet.

“Leave me alone, Lindani. Your mother makes me feel worthless. Every time she speaks about this I feel like I’m the biggest failure in the world!”

“Don’t worry about, Ma. Don’t mind her. You know how her generation speaks. They just blurt things out, not thinking about how what they say will make the other person feel.”

“It’s not that at all. Your mother just hates me!”

“No, my love. She is just a frustrated old woman who is yearning to have a grandchild. I deeply apologise on her behalf.”

“Why is she always blaming me? She is just never satisfied. No matter what I do it is never enough in her eyes.”

“I’m sorry, Fezile. Please can you just forget about this and come back to the dinner table? Your food is getting cold.”

“Please leave me alone for a while. I just lost my appetite.”

A few days later Fezile is watching a gospel show on TV. On stage is Pastor Ngubo, the most famous TV pastor in South Africa. He is known for his healing powers; many of his congregants testify that he heals all physical and emotional ailments.

“I urge all of you at home who need my help. All those in need of God’s healing powers. I urge all of you to raise your hand to God and with that same hand touch your television screen!” says Pastor Ngubo on TV.

Fezile raises her hand and touches her TV screen. She closes her eyes and prays.

Pastor Ngubo tells his viewers about the products he sells at his office. There are oils, soaps and holy water. Fezile writes down the address of Pastor Ngubo’s office, gets in her car and drives there.

She finds the office packed, takes a chair in reception and waits for her turn. She overhears two women in the row in front of hers talking.

“I’m am a walking testament to Pastor Ngubo’s healing powers. This man was truly ordained by God to do His good work on earth. I had been unemployed for years after I completed my diploma. But today I work for the municipality and I want for nothing,” says one woman.

“What did the Pastor give you?” asks the other woman.

“He gave me his holy water and the holy soap.”

“Pastor Ngubo is a true miracle worker. I was getting pregnant but kept getting miscarriages. But everything worked out perfectly after I came to see Pastor Ngubo. My last born is six months old now. Pastor gave me holy oil to help me, but today I have come to ask for more help because I have just opened a spaza shop and I need a lot of customers.”

Fezile strains her ears to all conversations going on in the reception area.

Tell us: Do you believe in ‘holy’ oils, soaps and water? Are they a money-making scam, or can they really help all the people who buy them?