Sphiwe’s 12-year-old sister, Sindisiwe, is waiting for him on the pavement opposite the high school. Her school day at Mpumelelo Primary School ends a full thirty minutes before Sphiwe’s. Sindisiwe always waits for Sphiwe after school so they can walk home together.

The end-of-school siren rings at Vuka Uzakhe High School. Learners rush out and split up at the gate – some going up the road towards Tafta Hall and others down the road towards the red container that sells fast food. Sindisiwe notices a figure looking like her brother walking next to a girl in the crowd. The girl is Zinhle.

“Sphiwe! Sphiwe! Over here!” Sindisiwe calls out.

Sphiwe isn’t looking in Sindisiwe’s direction because he is looking at Zinhle. He wants to say something to her but he just doesn’t have the words. When Zinhle says goodbye and walks hurriedly home, Siphiwe stops and looks after her until she is out of view.

Two cars pass. Sindisiwe crosses the road as another car is speeding up the road.

“Hawu Sphiwe! Why are you ignoring me? Didn’t you hear me calling you?” Sindisiwe complains, catching her breath and clutching at the straps of her backpack.

Sphiwe looks around, surprised. “No, Sindi, sorry, I didn’t hear you calling,” he says.

“So. Who’s that girl you were looking at?”

“Nobody. Let’s go,” says Sphiwe.

“You are so funny, Sphiwe. But I know you’re going to tell me eventually. She can’t be just nobody if you were looking at her for so long,” Sindisiwe chuckles. “Anyway, I have news for you big brother.”

“I’m listening.”

“So, Mrs Ngwenya, our art teacher wants members for a school choir and auditions are starting next week for those interested and …”

“And?”

“Because I also sing in the church choir, I want to join the school choir. Plus, she said there will be competitions,” her face is radiant with a wide smile filled with passion and energy.

“Mrs Ngwenya also taught me art when I was still at your school,” Sphiwe says.

“So, what do you think? Should I go for auditions?”

“I think it’s a good idea, Sindi. Go for it.”

Their mother, MaGumede, is sitting on a chair by the corner of their two-bedroom house. She looks up and sees Sphiwe and Sindisiwe walking in a cloud of dust kicked up by a speeding van on the gravel road. MaGumede has her body tucked into a long black and white dress, the doek on her head matches her dress. Sphiwe’s baby sister, Mbali, is playing about MaGumede’s feet.

“Sawubona, Ma,” says Sphiwe.

“Ninjani (How Are you)?” asks MaGumede smiling.

“Siyaphila, Ma (We are well).”

Sindisiwe turns to Mbali and picks her up. “Hello girly girl!”

Sphiwe enters the house. The large clock on the wall makes a ticking sound. Next to the clock there’s an old photo of his late father. Sphiwe loosens his tie and stretches out on the sofa. Soon the three p.m. news bulletin blasts out of the radio speakers.

Sphiwe notices something peculiar in the newsreader’s tone today. Her voice has an unfamiliar urgency to it. He sits up, leans forward and listens.

“Greetings to the listeners at home. This is the Inanda FM afternoon news bulletin presented by Thembi Mazibuko. The leading story this hour is the discovery of the body of a teenager who has been missing for a week. Police have confirmed that the body discovered in a ditch in the Masikane area of Amaoti is that of Nolwandle Mntambo, the fifteen-year-old Amaoti teenager who has been missing for seven days. A source close to the investigation told Inanda FM that the teenager was raped and died by strangulation. SAPS spokesperson Thulani Mhlongo said …”

Goosebumps crawl up Sphiwe’s arms as he listens to the newsreader. He doesn’t know the victim, but it makes no difference. The young woman who was raped, strangled to death and dumped in a ditch could’ve been his sister.

***

Tell us: What do you think should be done to end violence against women?