Thandiwe



I hand my CV to the manager, feeling a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. As he received the document, I watched intently, observing his facial expressions and body language. The manager, a stern-looking individual, glanced at my CV and then back at me. I remembered what Mam Mavis had told me about him being a tough boss but fair. He broke the silence, his voice firm but not unfriendly.

“Mam Mavis told me that you are a hard worker,” he said, his gaze fixed on me.

I nod, acknowledging the compliment. He puts my CV on the desk and leans back, studying me for a moment. “To be honest, I don’t need any new staff at the moment,” he admitted, his tone implying that he was doing me a favor. “But because I care about Mam Mavis, I guess I’ll squeeze you in somewhere. Since you are confined to a wheelchair, what can you help me with? Have you worked with money before?”

I pause for a moment, considering his question. “No, I haven’t,” I replied honestly, “but I’m good with maths.”

A smile crept across the manager’s face. “Great,” he said. “You will work as a cashier for a probationary period of six months. If you do well, I will consider hiring you permanently.”

Overwhelmed with gratitude, I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, sir,” I said, my voice filled with genuine appreciation.

“You will start on Wednesday morning at 8 a.m, and don’t be late.” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for error.

As I got out of the supermarket, a wave of relief and excitement washed over me. Bongani’s face lit up with curiosity. “I guess your interview went great?” he asked, already sensing the positive outcome.

I nod, a sense of accomplishment and happiness washing over me. “I start on Wednesday morning,” I confirmed.

“Lets go and celebrate before going back home,” Bongani suggested, taking my wheelchair’s handles and guiding me towards a nearby fish and chips store. “You didn’t have to do this,” I said, feeling grateful but also undeserving.

“My mother would have kicked my ass if I didn’t help you out,” Bongani replied with a chuckle.

I smiled and nodded, feeling fortunate to have such a caring friend. “Well, thank you.”

Bongani looks at me intently, his eyes filled with a mix of kindness and wisdom. “You see, Thandiwe, it doesn’t cost a single cent to help someone,” he said. “And as for me, I like helping people without expecting anything in return. It’s the feeling I get that makes it worthwhile. Besides, the world is full of selfish people.”

I look down at my takeaway plate, feeling a pang of guilt. “I am a selfish person,” I admit, my voice heavy with regret.

Bongani’s gaze softens as he reached out and touched my hand gently. “Why do you say that?” he asked, his tone compassionate.

I shrugged, feeling a surge of emotions welling up inside me. “Where do I even begin?” I began, my voice trembling. “There was Sbonga. He loved me, and I was fresh out of high school, full of excitement about getting distinctions and going to university. Sbonga got a job, and he made me wait for him, and I promised.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I recalled the painful memories. “But I broke my promise within a week. I got into university, and I cheated on him with a lecturer. I got pregnant, and Sbonga was still there. We got married, but I got bored and cheated on him again, this time for material things. Sbonga left, and I don’t blame him. I was selfish, only thinking about myself and my needs. That’s why Sbonga left, and God took my child. I don’t deserve love because I am selfish.”

Bongani kept quiet and not offered anything more as we finished our meal in silence, the weight of the conversation lingering between us. Bongani waved me goodbye as I entered my yard, I wondered as Bongani slipped into the darkness if whether I have driven him away.