When Sakhele, Mbali’s father, walked in, he found his wife sitting glumly on the sofa. He knew at once that something was wrong.
“You look sad. What is it?” he asked, sitting next to her.
“Tell me Mdange,” she said, affectionately calling him by his clan name, “what is a ‘blow-out party’?”
Sakhele smiled and held her hand. “If you don’t know it Thembi, my wife, how do you think I could even guess? Ask Ntando; maybe he will know,” he said, pointing to his son who had just parked his car outside.
“Tata, Mama! Molweni ekhaya,” Ntando greeted them cheerfully as he walked in, carrying a small shopping bag. “Mama, look what I have got for you: your favourite strawberry yogurt,” he said, as he put the bag on the table.
“Ntando, tell me my son, what is a ‘blow-out party’?”
“Ha ha ha! Oh Mama, come on … Where did you hear about that? Argh – I know, my sister.”
“You must talk to your sister. Actually, I don’t even want to know what it is, because we don’t have money for that.”
Thembi left the young man chatting with his father and rushed out to her stokvel meeting.
Meanwhile Mbali was dancing up a storm at Ta-Vido’s Place with her best friend, Khwezi.
“So my friend, the party is happening this weekend, right?” asked Khwezi, taking a break from dancing. They walked to a long table in a corner of the room where it was darker, and sat down.
Mbali shook her head sadly. “You can’t believe what my mom is saying,” she said, finishing the last drop of drink from her glass.
“I still remember mine, five years back! It was the party of the year. The theme was ‘All white’,” Khwezi boasted, snapping her fingers. “Even the cake was a white bling cake and I was trending online for the whole weekend, Baby,” she said, rolling her eyes and tapping her feet to the rhythm of the song playing.
“My mother wants a braai with a few friends and family! She herself is going to bake me a cake. Just imagine, my friend? Yhuu,” said Mbali, sulking.
“What? She must be joking! Can she bake at all, if I may ask?”
“I don’t know. I have never seen her baking. All I know is that we buy cakes from Aunt Sam all the time.”
“Ha, ha!” Khwezi laughed so loud that some people at the pub turned their heads and looked at them. “Aunty Thembi should not be that stingy. I mean you are her first and last daughter. And you only turn 21 once in your life time.”
“Hey Khwezi, my friend, look at that guy over there! The one with long twisted dreadlocks. He keeps on looking at our table,” whispered Mbali suddenly.
Khwezi turned her head to look and saw the guy looking right back at them. She did not waste time – she waved at him.
“No, Khwezi, do you know that guy?”
“No tshomi, but he looks so yummy! I think we’ve found someone to pay for our next round of drinks,” said Khwezi, winking and rolling her eyes mischievously again, and pouting her lips as refreshed her lip gloss.
“Look at those dark bushy eyebrows and that playful smile, tshomi! Wow! It’s suddenly got hot in here!” Mbali said, and could not help staring at the guy. Truth be told he was quite a looker, a very handsome young man, slender built and right up in his mid-thirties.
***
Tell us: What do you think of Kwezi and Mbali’s behaviour in the pub: just good fun, or foolish?