They get to the clinic and Sonke rushes to fetch a wheelchair. He’s well-built and has no problem lifting Gogo from the car. He pushes her up the ramp into the clinic, with Vusi and Sakhile in tow. Nurses are shocked when they see Gogo’s state of health. They call an ambulance.

“Vusi, you need to go to school,” says Sonke. “Sakhile and I will handle everything here.”

“Thank you Uncle Sonke. May God bless you,” Vusi says, as he grabs his schoolbag from Sakhile and bolts out of the clinic.

Vusi wonders what on earth he will write in his exam since he hasn’t had a chance to study, what with looking after Gogo, and worrying about food. Thoughts rage in his head.

What will become of me if Gogo dies? What will I eat? Where will I go? Surely people at the big house will tell us to pack our bags and go if Gogo dies. It is an open secret that they want Gogo’s land for a sugar-cane plantation.

Who do I belong to? Where is my family? Is my father dead or alive? Who is he? Where is he? Does he ever wonder about me?

He only has questions and no answers.

Vusi decides that after he finishes writing he will go to Gogo and get answers to his many questions. She cannot die without telling him. All his life he has asked Gogo these questions but she always told him, “Forget about the people who abandoned you. They won’t help you one bit. Concentrate on your studies.”

While Gogo is getting aid at the clinic, Sonke is deeply concerned about how his aunt is being treated by her own flesh and blood. Her own sons and daughters abandoned her, with two young boys!

He calls Gogo MaKhumalo’s youngest son, Bonginkosi.

“Hello, Sonke. To what do I owe the pleasure of getting a phone call from you?” says Bonginkosi.

“I am well, my brother. How are you?” says Sonke, ignoring the question. “No, in fact I am not well, Bonginkosi. Your mother is seriously ill. Did you know she is in such bad health?”

“Ye-yes,” Bonginkosi stutters, “but I thought she would get better soon.”

“What have you done to give you hope that she will get better?”

“N-nothing, my brother. It’s just that I heard my nephews, Vusi and Sakhile, say that she was better than before. And I thought …”

“That’s the problem, Bonginkosi. You thought but never did anything about it. Do you know how she is now?”

“No.”

“Why? Why? It’s because you don’t give a damn about her!” Sonke shouts into the phone.

“It’s not that I don’t care about my mother, Sonke. It’s just that …”

Bonginkosi’s girlfriend, MaNkosi, snatches the phone from his hand. “Hello! What’s your problem, Sonke?” she says.

“Who says I have a problem? Please give the phone back to Bonginkosi. We are discussing family matters that don’t concern you.”

“What you want to say to him, you can say to me,” says MaNkosi.

“This doesn’t concern you, MaNkosi!” Sonke fumes. “What don’t you understand about the phrase ‘family matters’? You are just a girlfriend, not his wife.”

“That may be so but I will be his wife soon. If you don’t want to tell me what the problem is, I am dropping this call.”

“Aunty, his mother, is sick. She is really in a bad way. We are at the clinic and they have called for an ambulance to take her to the hospital.”

“The ambulance has been called. She is going to the hospital. So what do you want from Bonginkosi? Has my Bonginkosi become a doctor all of a sudden?”

Sonke tries to keep calm. “Another thing that worries me is that Aunty is left alone with these two young boys. They are suffering.”

“Your family calls me inyumba (barren) because I can’t have children. Now all of a sudden Bonginkosi and I have to care for two boys. Where are their fathers? Bonginkosi will have nothing to do with those orphans. Call their mothers because they abandoned them, not us.”

“I heard that you are a ruthless woman, MaNkosi, but I have never heard your dirty mouth first hand. Who are you to speak such rubbish to me?”

“Are you done, Sonke? Have you even told Bonginkosi’s older brother?”

“No, I can’t–”

“Why not?” snaps MaNkosi. “Aren’t you the great messenger?”

“Listen to me, you crazy witch!” Sonke says, losing it. “Don’t think you can speak however you like to me. I will–”

“Nywe nywe nywe. Nxx! You people like pretending as if you care for MaKhumalo. Are you not happy that old woman is sick because when she dies your family will get her piece of the homestead? Don’t ever tell us anything about that old woman and her orphans! We have–”

“Stop right there, MaNkosi. What do orphans have to do with all of this? I can’t talk to you. Bye!” Sonke drops the call.

***

Tell us: Do you think Mankosi has a good point about the boys’ own mothers and fathers abandoning them? Should Sonke contact them rather?