Samkelo and his friends took their seats in the front row. Nozi was sitting next to Samkelo and they were holding hands. The tent was so full that there were people sitting on the grass next to those who occupied chairs.

“Molweni!” Gcobani greeted the crowd, speaking into the mic. He was Samkelo’s paternal uncle, and had nominated himself as MC.

“No stranger will be the MC of my nephew’s celebration while I am still alive. It is my duty as the head of this family to say whose turn it is to talk. Besides, I am saving you loads of money. These famous MCs cost a fortune and I, on the other hand, will offer my services for much less,” he had said, when Nothembile asked about an affordable MC they could hire. Gcobani had never done something for free, so it didn’t come as a shock to the family when he expected to be paid.

“Ewe ke!” the crowd responded.

“Ndithe molweni!” Gcobani greeted again, raising his voice higher now.

“Ewe ke!” the crowd screamed.

“Eh, you know mos why you are here, right? We are here to celebrate my favourite nephew’s graduation. Yes, Samkelo is a graduate now, to those who didn’t know. Stand up so they can see you, my nephew,” Gcobani said and Samkelo stood up, waved, then sat down. “If you knew how his mother worked so hard to send this young man to the university, you would understand why we decided to celebrate his graduation. Sometimes he cried to me when he was hungry at res, and I would send him some money …”

Gcobani carried on with his introductory speech. Samkelo’s ears had shut down when his uncle said he had assisted him with money while he was studying. He bent slightly forward in his chair and looked at his mother, who was sitting in the same row. It was as though he was checking if his mother was listening to his uncle. Nothembile looked at her son, and gently shook her head. Samkelo settled back in his chair and thought of the only day he had asked for something from his uncle.

Samkelo was at his university residence when he had phoned his mother, saying, “Mama, I need a R200 for a textbook. I lost the one I had and I really need it, because I am writing exams next week.”

“You know Samkel, my son, I am not getting paid until next week. I will try asking my neighbours to lend me the money, but I am not promising anything. I don’t know how you could be so careless, knowing the money is tight for us these days,” Samkelo’s mother had chastised him.

He was so desperate that he then found himself phoning his uncle. “Molo, Tamnci. Could you please help me with a R200? I need to buy a textbook, but my mother says she doesn’t have money at the moment as she is only getting paid next week. You are my only hope now, Tamnci, and you know I have never asked for anything from you before.”

“Do you know Ndileka’s son, Sipho?” Gcobani had asked him. Sipho attended the same university, but he was a year ahead of Samkelo.

“Ewe Tamnci, I know him,” Samkelo had replied.

“Well, like you, he is studying full-time at the university but he works as a waiter on weekends. I can ask his father for his number. Maybe there’s a job opening for you where he is working,” Gcobani had said.

“But Tamnci, I need it urgently. Please!” Samkelo begged, but Gcobani hung up. If his mother hadn’t received the loan from her neighbour, Samkelo wouldn’t have been able to buy that textbook.

Samkelo’s mother was taking the mic from Gcobani when Samkelo’s mind shifted back to the present day.

“Molweni. If I talked about how I struggled to send Samkelo to the university, it would take the whole day and you would not believe some of the things that I’d say. Today we should only celebrate Samkelo’s graduation, and not dwell too much on how he got here,” Nothembile said.

Themba walked into the tent and stood behind the back row. He loved his younger brother, even though Samkelo disrespected him sometimes and rubbed salt into his wounds. Samkelo was the golden boy, and Themba the dropout. As he watched the people cheering for his brother, Themba couldn’t help but think that this ceremony could have been his, a few years ago, had he not dropped out of university. His younger brother was now his mother’s most favoured son because he had done what Themba failed to do – make her proud.

Nothembile smiled at Themba, and continued, “Samkelo worked very hard to be the graduate he is today. I wish you all the success in your career, Samkelo, my son. Continue to make us proud.”

“Well, let’s clap hands for Samkelo’s mother,” Gcobani said, and the crowd clapped.

“The next, and last person to speak from our family, is Thenjiwe. Asishayen’izandla!” Gcobani screamed. The crowd clapped as she took the mic.

“Molweni! I am Samkelo’s aunt. I won’t say much about my nephew because time is against us. All I am going to say is this, I am proud of you Samkelo. I am proud of the hard work you put into your studies. Now you will work and provide for your family. Your mother will finally rest. When we cry to you as your aunts and uncles, wipe our tears. Never turn your back on us, because we are family, and family must always help each other in times of need. Thank you!” Thenjiwe said. The crowd clapped as she handed the mic back to Gcobani.

Samkelo was puzzled by Thenjiwe’s and Gcobani’s speeches. He was puzzled at how they talked about the importance of family helping each other. Yet they had turned their backs on their family when his mother asked them to loan her money to pay for his university registration fee. In the end, Nothembile had had to apply for a loan at the bank.

***

Tell us: How do you think Themba feels?