I suppose having Khethiwe in town is a breath of fresh air. She’s right by my side all of Saturday morning. Actually she spent the night at my place. Nothing happened — after all, I am a gentleman at best. Though I wish she didn’t get to experience the ‘new and improved’ Seun, who has to bury his feelings for her.

I recall the day she told me Mashona no longer excited her. “Seun, I am sorry I have to vay’ but you know our oath, ‘Don’t Koppel feelings’. You have to let me go.”

I sobbed, “I swear, if you leave me now, I will never forgive you!”

I snap out of it just in time to witness Khethiwe step out of the bath. She is breathtaking. Water drips from her brown shapely body. I stare a bit as I pass her a towel. She covers herself. “So, tell me, love, when are we expected to show up at Nkosi’s family house?”

“As soon as possible. We still have to go buy the sheep. It’s Christmas, the early bird catches the worm.”

“Yet the second mouse gets the cheese!”

Khethiwe gets dressed in a three-piece traditional Ndebele outfit. I wear a dashiki and matching khaki pants.

We head to Nkosi’s family house. When we arrive, we are given a very warm welcome. I sit on a bench getting acquainted with the elders. Nkosi calls me over, “Seun, it’s time! We have to go buy the sheep. I am counting on you on this one!” he pleads.

“When have I ever let you down? You can count on me, mfowethu.” I seal it with a fist bump. We get the sheep from a small farm in Brakpan, at a reasonable price: 300 Rands. We come back with the live animal. The elders give us permission to slaughter it just before dusk. We hang the carcass from a fence to let the blood drip.

Bab’ Mthembu approaches us while we sit in the garage, “You boys did a fine job slaying that sheep. For that, I brought you two cases of Zamalek, and I grant you permission to cut a leg and thigh from the carcass and feast like men!” he shouts.

We all cheer. “Thanks, grootman,” I add.

Bab’ Mthembu tells me, “Seun, you did me proud. That’s a fine animal you brought. And not to mention the well-mannered girl who came along with you. She’d make a great makoti.”

“Thank you, grootman. But we’re just friends.”

We dive into the two cases of Zamalek while we braai the meat. We feast like real men. Khethiwe and the rest of the women cook tripe in the kitchen.

OK, I have to be honest about one thing. There’s an evil in me that takes over at times, and I blame that evil for what comes next.

Tell us: What do you think will happen next?