Mr Lekoko and his wife from next door – they were always jealous of my parents. Because my mother had a good job at the diamond company. Because my dad always had full-time work when he lived with us.

I remember once when my mother got a bedroom suite delivered. The big truck was parked outside, offloading the fancy headboard, the fancy dressing table.

Mr Lekoko stood at his gate with his wife, watching.

“These Dubes are always showing off. Like they are better than us. Well, that furniture is too big. It won’t fit inside the bedroom. Their house is the same size as ours. So I know.”

They were jealous of Mama’s flower garden. I’m sure they were the ones who damaged her sweet peas at night. Or maybe it was their teenage sons. Their sons don’t go to school. Instead they roam the streets with gangs. Twice the police have come to knock on their door. Maybe that also makes them jealous: that Mama has a son who doesn’t cause trouble.

Now Mr Lekoko thinks his time has come. He stands outside his gate gossiping about my mother with all our neighbours. Loudly.

“Yes, and her husband left her because she was unfaithful. Yes, and she was always acting like she was so important! And now, see! She has caught the fast train, you understand? Well, you reap what you sow. Isn’t that true? Now she must pay for her sins.”

“Yes, and this Mrs Dube must move away. This is a decent street where decent people live. People with young children even. I have told the landlord.”

And then he built the wall. This high brick wall, just between our house and his. It looks crazy. The rest of his house only has chicken wire around it. He explained to his neighbours loudly, “I must be careful. I must protect my family.”

Sitting here in my mother’s bedroom, I can see the wall through the window. It is almost all I can see. The bedroom furniture and the fancy dressing table are gone now. Repossessed because my mother couldn’t keep up payments. But there is the wall.

I want to close the curtains. That wall makes me so angry. But Mama says, “No, Kesha. I need to see the sunlight. In the morning, the sun shines right on my bed.”

Sometimes I want to get a hammer and smash the wall, brick by brick. Sometimes I want to get a hammer and smash Mr Lekoko.

“And what about Dineo’s friends and neighbours, Kesha?” Mama asks again. “Does the newspaper say something about them?”

So I read some more.

“The judge took into consideration Mrs Maphakwane’s feelings of hopelessness as well as the stigma and discrimination she suffered. It was her testimony that she was stigmatised. She said it was difficult to associate with people as they tended to shun her. The judge ruled that R150 000 was fair compensation for what she had suffered.”

“But this is wonderful news!” says my mother.

***

What do you think? Why does Kesha’s mother think this is wonderful news?