A few days later, Sithandile’s father calls her unexpectedly.

Mr Mxenge: Hello, is this Sithandile?

Sithandile: Yes, who am I speaking to?

Mr Mxenge: Your father. How are you doing, mntanam?

Sithandile: Where did you get my number?

Mr Mxenge: Does it matter, na?

Sithandile: Yes, it does.

Mr Mxenge: Your mother called me yesterday to tell me about the good news.

Sithandile: (feeling betrayed) Oh, how can I help you?

Mr Mxenge: Congratulations on passing your matric. I am proud of you.

Sithandile: Thank you. Is there something else?

Mr Mxenge: You are being rude, ntombazana.

Sithandile: Rude? Maybe I wouldn’t be if you actually started by apologising? Or better, if you were there to raise me and make sure that I don’t grow up to become rude.

Mr Mxenge: How many times do I have to apologise for not being there?

Sithandile: You know, Tata, if you had stayed after your apologies, maybe I would believe them. But instead, you apologise, make a million promises, and then disappear on me.

Mr Mxenge: I don’t mean to disappear on you, sometimes I lose my phone and your number.

Sithandile: Three years, Tata? You lost your phone for three years? If so, how did my mom find you?

Mr Mxenge: See what you are doing right now? This is one of the reasons why I haven’t called you in three years. You are forever angry at me as if it is my fault that I wasn’t present in your life.

Sithandile: (standing up from the sofa in anger) Oh, is it so? How is it not your fault? And how do you expect me not to be angry when you just don’t know what it means to be a father? It is like you don’t even know what it means to be present in my life if it doesn’t benefit you. Yet the million other children you have are loved dearly by you.

Mr Mxenge: It’s your mother! Your mother is the reason things are like this. You don’t know what she did to me.

Sithandile: How would I know since you never told me?!

Mr Mxenge: You are just too young to understand.

Sithandile: So, let me get this straight, Tata, I am too young to understand what happened between wena nomama, but I am not too young to be neglected by my own father?

Mr Mxenge: I didn’t neglect you. If you knew what she did years ago, you wouldn’t be speaking like this.

Sithandile: So, what? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Am I supposed to hate my mother and finally magically understand why you left and applaud you for choosing to do what is best for you, which was walking away?

Mr Mxenge: I don’t expect you to understand, but I cannot associate with your mother ever again.

Sithandile: (in defeat) And that is what I am suffering for? All these years, wondering what it is about me that makes you stay away, blaming myself for your absence from my life, silently defending you whenever my family spoke badly of you…all these years I yearned for your love…was it all because of some beef you have with my mother? Wow. I hope you heal, and when you do, I hope you realise how much you’ve missed and how you can never, ever get that back.

Mr Mxenge: Sithandile, sana lwam, I am sorry.

Sithandile: You always are.

Mr Mxenge: I want to make it right.

Sithandile: (sarcastic) Of course you do.

Mr Mxenge: What do you need? Tell me, I will do it.

Sithandile: (swallows) R30 000 for my registration fee.

Mr Mxenge: What? Which university is that? That is a lot of money.

Sithandile: UCT.

Mr Mxenge: Can’t you choose another school? There are many affordable universities out there, what’s it called? CPUT. There is also another one called UWC, so why not go to that?

Sithandile: No, I don’t want any other school. I worked hard, just to get into UCT.

Mr Mxenge: I don’t have that kind of money.

Sithandile: OK.

Mr Mxenge: Just go to another university. I don’t think CPUT has a registration fee.

Sithandile: But it’s not the one I have chosen, is it?

Mr Mxenge: Hayi, I am sorry, mntanam, but I don’t have that kind of money.

Sithandile: You don’t have to pay all of it, you can pay half.

Mr Mxenge: I don’t even have half. I still need to pay your brother’s school fees and transport, buy groceries…

Sithandile: Right, because I am not that important.

Mr Mxenge: That is it. Call me when you are ready to negotiate. (hangs up)

Sithandile: (shocked) Oh, OK.

She goes to her mother in her bedroom.

Sithandile: What happened between you and my father?

Nokuzola: What do you mean?

Sithandile: Please just answer the question.

Nokuzola: No, no, no. You don’t have the right to just barge in here and demand answers; I am not your equal.

Sithandile: Be that as it may, I still need answers, Mama, you have lied to me for too long. Do you know how much it hurts? You don’t, Mama. You grew up with your mom and dad, in a warm family. So please, tell me what happened, because uTata keeps telling me that he cannot associate with you and that is why he has been staying away.

Nokuzola: Uphambene [he is crazy]! What do I have to do with him taking care of you?

Sithandile: What happened, Mama?

Nokuzola: Nothing! It is none of your business. Look, clearly your father will not provide for you willingly, so I will take it to court for child support.

Sithandile: What? Mama, you cannot just take such a decision. How much do I have to suffer for what happened between you and him in order for you to realise that it is actually my business because I am the one who has to suffer?! I don’t want my father to go to court in order for him to provide for me. That should be his decision, not the court’s. You know what? Forget it. I am no longer going to UCT? Happy?

MaNtshilibe: (coming from the kitchen) What is the noise for emzini kaNogqengese?

Nokuzola: It’s fine, Mama, I have got it under control.

Sithandile: (with an attitude) Really?

MaNtshilibe: Don’t talk to your mother like that, Sithandile!

Sithandile: How should I talk to her, Grandmother? Iminyaka! I have been silent for years, you guys made decisions for me, you decided when and for how long I got to see my paternal family, you would fetch me whenever I spent more than a day with them, and you decided what was good for me and what wasn’t! When do I get a chance to decide? When do I get a chance to speak? When do I get a chance to tell you how wounded I am by all this feuding and rivalry between these two families? (crying) I was just a child; did I really need to be dragged away from my paternal family? Did I really need to see you argue with my paternal grandmother about how long I should stay with them? Did I really have to hear how much of a loser and failure my father is? Did I, Grandma?

MaNtshilibe: (with some sympathy) You wouldn’t understand, Sithandile, this is our culture. And it is for your protection.

Sithandile: Well, your culture wounded me. It may have protected you, but it killed me. May I please be excused. (She runs out.)

Nokuzola: You see, ke Mama? You should have just let the child have a relationship with her family.

MaNtshilibe: You should have never gotten pregnant as a teenager, that is what.

Nokuzola: Wow.

Tell us: What do you think of Sithandile’s father’s attitude?