3 weeks later…

It’s early in the morning. Mrs. Khoza is in the kitchen humming a gospel song while preparing breakfast. There’s a knock on the door and she rushes to open.

Mrs. KHOZA (opens the door): Oh, it’s you boy, boy? Come in.

Karabo walks in.

Mrs. KHOZA: You can take a seat my boy.

Karabo sits at the kitchen table.

Mrs. KHOZA (continues making breakfast): What brings you here so early in the morning?

KARABO: Um… I need your help Ma.

Mrs. Khoza turns to look at him with a surprised face.

KARABO: I need you to help me find Maria.

Mrs. KHOZA (annoyed): Did I hear that right? You’re saying…

KARABO: Yes, I need you to help me find your stepdaughter. I miss her. I miss my friend Ma.

Mrs. KHOZA: Oh, well–

Mr. KHOZA (from behind): She’s not welcome in this house!

KARABO: (shock and disbelief on his face): Your daughter?

Mr. KHOZA (approaching): I don’t remember having a daughter.

KARABO: (more shock and confusion on his face): But… (turns to Mrs. Khoza)

Mrs. KHOZA (pleased): No comment.

Mr. KHOZA: This home is not for irresponsible scums. If you happen to find her, keep her.

KARABO: Pastor, what’s going on?

Mr. KHOZA: Your friend is a ticking bomb waiting to go off. If you want to deal with disastrous consequences in the future – keep her in your house!

Mrs. KHOZA: The head of the house has spoken. I hope you understand now why I can’t help you.

KARABO (still puzzled): Yeah. Umm… I understand.

Mrs. KHOZA: So… (shows him the door)

Karabo hesitantly leaves.