“Sorry, Ma’am. You have to wait for the mandatory 24 hours. Then only can we report this.”

“You people are useless!” Zinhle yelled, cutting her call to the police station. She had been looking for Pepsi for an hour now and could not find her anywhere.

Now every one of Zinhle’s friends nearby was out looking for Pepsi too. Even Gloria and the ladies put aside their jealousy for the sake of the young girl’s safety.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, Vusi,” Zinhle said, while Vusi drove her around the neighbourhood trying to spot Pepsi.

“It’s no problem at all,” he replied.

Zinhle knew he had to go to work but he sacrificed it to help her. And this after what happened last night, when she all but chased him out. Vusi really was a good guy.

As they were going slowly past the park, Zinhle saw someone alone on a swing. And it looked a lot like …

“Vusi, stop!”

He hit the brakes abruptly; luckily there were no other cars on the road. Zinhle ran to where Pepsi sat, silently swinging.

Despite her anger borne of anxiety, Zinhle pulled Pepsi into a huge hug.

But when they were home safely, Zinhle let her anger out. “You’re so irresponsible! How can you just run away? Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“I’m sorry for running away,” Pepsi apologised. “But I’m still upset with you.”

“That’s fine. But don’t ever do that again. We searched for you for hours. Everyone: Vusi, the Stokvel ladies, even Dr Lehmann.”

“Who’s Dr Lehmann?”

“He’s the doctor I work for on weekends. That’s not the point. Anything could have happened to you. You don’t know this place.”

“I just … I need the truth. Are you my real sister or not?” asked Pepsi, looking anguished.

Zinhle couldn’t take it any longer. “No, I’m not your sister, Pepsi!” she blurted out. “Because … because I’m the one who gave birth to you.”

“Wait.” Pepsi had to sit down once she heard what Zinhle had said. “Let me get this straight. You’re my mother?”

“Yes,” Zinhle admitted. “Yes, I am.”

Pepsi had a hard time digesting everything. She couldn’t believe that the person she’d thought was her sister was actually her own mother!

“But … how?”

Zinhle was reluctant to share her story, for it hurt her to think about it, but she now knew that she owed it to Pepsi.

“I was young and naïve, once, Pepsi,” Zinhle explained. “My Mama died when I was just 13. I didn’t know who my father was. I only had Gogo. At that time of my life, I saw no use in going to school. I thought I was made for bigger and better. I got involved with a man twice my age and he took care of me. Before I knew it, I was … pregnant with his child.”

Zinhle’s eyes started to tear up as she told the story of her youth.

“It wasn’t uncommon back then, in my village. A lot of girls, some even younger than I was, got pregnant. They had to leave school and raise their children alone, or maybe their mothers or grandmothers would do it for them. The men who got them pregnant never took responsibility.

“But your father, he swore he would protect me, look after you and I. He was different. And he kept his promise until his last breath.”

Pepsi blinked robotically. “So … he’s … dead?”

Zinhle felt so sad thinking about it. She nodded slowly.

She had thought that Pepsi would be angry, but the girl sympathised with her, patting her softly as she wept.

“He died just before I gave birth to you,” Zinhle sobbed.

“Sis … er, I mean Zinhle,” Pepsi stuttered, unsure of what to call Zinhle now that she knew the truth. “What happened to him? How did he die?”

Zinhle swallowed hard. “He had AIDS.”

***

Tell us: What could knowing about this difficult fact mean for Pepsi?