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.