Many, many days passed after the funeral and there was no word from MaNgobese. Even Mzempi was starting to wonder what had happened to his mother. Then, one night when we were all around the cooking fire, talking after our supper of phutu and maas, she appeared again out of the dark.

My mother stood up and greeted her like a respectful daughter. I too went to her and put my arms around her body, which smelled of the city. KaZwide nodded and greeted.

“Sawubona, my sister,” she said to MaNgobese.

“I am well, thank you,” MaNgobese said, putting down her bag and taking off her shoes.

My mother made her a cup of tea with three spoons of sugar and we waited to hear what had happened. Clearly she hadn’t got her hands on the taxis, I thought, or else she wouldn’t have appeared on foot out of the dark, wanting to get her shoes off as quickly as possible.

“So, as you all know, I went to Jozi,” she said, pausing to take a long sip of tea. “But things there were not as Mkhulu had told us. In fact, when I arrived the situation got a little out of hand.”

When she said this KaZwide grunted loudly and my mother giggled nervously.

“This big taxi boss known as Mzimela said all the taxis were his and that my husband, our beloved Mkhulu, was only one of his drivers,” MaNgobese said.

There was a combined gasp. Mkhulu had spoken so proudly of his taxis. This could not be true. Had this Mzimela robbed our family of the wealth our father had built up or had Mkhulu not been totally honest with us.

“Anyway, there are no taxis and no money,” MaNgobese said. “We are all as poor as the next one, which is why, KaZwide, I think the wise thing to do right now is to share with me the livestock that you took as your own after Mkhulu died.”

“Over my dead body, you hear me? I;m not your puppet!” roared my granny.

“KaZwide, you forget, I was his wife too. According to customary law, my son and I cannot be left to starve. As the number-one wife, you are responsible for us too.”

“You are not getting as much as a dead goat,” KaZwide spat. “Get away from my house, you greedy, snatching woman.”

“I will speak to the chief and see if he would be willing to divide up the livestock fairly,” MaNgobese said. Then she stood up and walked past KaZwide to her own rondavel, leaving us all in stunned silence. Moments later a candle was burning inside her home and she closed the door.

In reality, MaNgobese’s brave talk did not reflect her mental state. Over the next few days she became so bitter that, after that night around the fire, she hardly spoke to anyone in the family, even her son.

She had always been a prickly person, but now she sat in her doorway watching us, as if she was planning something evil. It unnerved me and I know it upset my mother, who took MaNgobese tea to try to make amends.

“Stop using all our sugar on her,” KaZwide chastised my mother. “She is throwing your tea out, probably because she things we are trying to poison her. Just ignore her.”

Everyone wanted MaNgobese to calm down so no one provoked her. I secretly wished she would go back to Joburg and marry the big taxi boss and then just stay there.

KaZwide whispered to my mother one night, “It is safer not to poke a wasps’ nest with a stick. Pretend everything is fine and eventually it will be.”

***

Tell us: What do you think MaNgobese is planning?