KaZwide consoled me: “Oh, sweet child, don’t worry. Come, let us go quickly to him now … Show me where he is.”

Endlandlama villagers, hearing the commotion, were coming out of their huts, rubbing their early-morning faces and making their way to KaZwide’s rondavel.

My Mkhulu was a well-known member of the community. As I waited for KaZwide to dress before we went back to Mkhulu, I heard the village gossips whispering.

“He must have got some unusual sickness from one of his mistresses in the city. It is said that he’s been changing women like socks. Who knows, maybe one of the mistresses couldn’t take it and bewitched him,” said MaMthembu, a well-known gossip who was spreading lies about an honourable man.

“Ay, I doubt that’s the case, MaMthembu … Maybe he has been bewitched here in our village. Have you heard about the man who lives in the cave at the edge of the cliff? That man is bad news, I tell you. He has killed so many people and every time they try to attack him he turns into a cat or an orange,” said MaNxumalo, trying not to tarnish Mr Ngcobo’s name.

“If you say so, but why would that man bewitch him? I’m convinced he got this from that horrible city,” replied MaMthembu.

Everyone was shocked that something had happened to Mkhulu, who was the head of the Ngcobo clan. How was it possible that he could have become so ill with no warning? It was like it came out of nowhere. Worst of all, I blamed myself. Did I do something wrong?

As we made our way along the hillside to where Mkhulu lay unconscious, my mother, who was KaZwide’s eldest daughter, said to her second mother, MaNgobese: “We must call Baba Mdletshe, he will know just what to do.”

“Haibo, why the rush, my daughter?” she said. “These things happen daily here. Let’s see what the matter is with him first?”

KaZwide was listening to them talk and I could see her face become hard and angry.

“MaNgobese! Hey, even if you don’t care about our husband, I do. I don’t know what you want, you greedy, evil woman. He’s been supporting us all financially and you know how far he had to go to do that. If he came back from Joburg every month, would he have been able to put food on the table? Would you have been able to treat your crazy son at those fancy hospitals and would you have had food to cook for him? Be grateful and appreciate his work for once in your life.” KaZwide spat on the ground.

We were all silent. No one liked it when KaZwide and MaNgobese fought and my grandmother had just said some very harsh words.

***

Tell us: Do you believe the things that the women are gossiping about? What is dangerous about gossip?