Early that night Lindelwa was desparate to see, Samkelo. He wasn’t at home when she went to his house in the afternoon. For the past minutes she’d been wrecking her brain of what lie to tell her father of where she was going in the night.
It’s was simple tosneak out, but her father was always watchful. Last night he had came into her room when she thought he was drunk-dead asleep. She had came with an excuse of rehearsing a play she liked that she saw on television.
“Baba, I’m going to the toilet” said Lindelwa.
Her father sat on the sofa reading a newspaper. He looked up, adjusted his glasses and glared at his daughter.
“At this time? Do you know you’ll need to relieve yourself everyday around this hour.”
“I won’t be long” she said, quickly walking out of the door.
She walked on a small path passing one of her neighbour’s house, Mickey’s house, who wasn’t seen around the yard, and the small shop before reaching Samkelo’s house.
Loud of hip hop music came out from the two-room house. Lindelwa was forced to knock on the door like a policeman. She knocked twice before a omnious, grim appearance opened the door.
“What are you doing here, Lindelwa? He asked with a calm but a sonorous voice.
She was always disappointed everytime she’d see, Samkelo. The sweet smile of a little boy she knew in him had gone for a very long time.
His eyes were red and sunken. He was high on ganja that smelled from the inside.
“I need to talk you”
Being invited inside, she coughed as she inhaled the ganja smoke that filled the entire sitting room.
Samkelo went to sit on the sofa and turned down the volume of his radio.
“Sorry” said Samkelo. ” I wasn’t expecting any visitors. Please have a sit.
So, what could be so important that you need to talk about at this hour?”
“I came in the afternoon you weren’t home.”
“A man can’t be indoors the whole day. He needs go out and hustle to have bread on his table”
He lit a cigarette.
“It’s about your mother” said Lindelwa, nervously.
Samkelo puffed out the noise through his noise and his glare didn’t make, Lindelwa comfortable. It was aggressive, certainly wasn’t happy about the mentioning of his mother.
Of course he would be upset, Lindelwa thought, he’d seen his mother having broken hearts over men, being beaten up, and worst of all, being slaughtered in front him.
All that happened, he was only ten years old, helpless, and Lindelwa thought he must probably blaming himself for her death.
“She’s not happy of the man you’ve become” Lindelwa continued. “Beating up women.”
“Get out” said Samkelo, calmly.
“I said get out” he said again, standing up. “How could you possibly know about my mother’s feelings.”
Lindelwa stood and responded, “Samkelo, you need to listen to me. She wants you to stop beating up your girlfriends.”
The wall that been holding his temper cracked, and collapsed. Lindelwa felt his palm stinging on her cheeks. She fell down to the floor.
“How dare you” said Samkelo. He grabbed his belt from the sofa.
As he was about to struck, Lindelwa, the bulb blow up, becoming dim. Lindelwa immediately thought his mother was here.
And she was standing behind her son.
Samkelo shrieked when he turned and saw her. He ran towards the door, but it was stuck. He shrieked again and went to curl up on a corner, same way when he watched his mother being killed.
Samkelo was horrified to see his mother with those wounds again. Last time he’d seen them, was when she layed dead on her own blood.
“What have become of you my son” said his mother, while Lindiwe crawled to stand next to the bedroom door.
“How many times have I warned you to never become the man that took my life. Men who teared my heart into pieces.
What have become of you my son?”
Samkelo’s tears were running on his cheeks, buried his head between his legs, unable to look at the awful memory of his childhood.
After his mother’s death, his life had been miserable. Forced to live with his grandma who hated his mother, even in death. Almost everyday, he’d get an unnecessary whooping.
When his grandma died, he dropped out of school to work at a brick manifestation.
“These women doesn’t love me, mama” Samkelo finally spoke, his head still between his legs. “All are treating me horribly, even the ones I genuinely love. Using me for the puny cents from my piece jobs.”
He continued to cry, and said again, “It’s all my fault. I should’ve been a man enough to protect you. If I wasn’t a coward you’d probably be still alive.
It’s all my fault. Please forgive me, Mama.”
“Look at me” said his mother. “Don’t be afraid my boy.”
What felt like pushing a brick up with his head, he finally looked up, face wet of his tears. His eyes soon became surprised. His mother was herself again. Angelic, creamy Thembi Luthuli. It was as if her son’s words had healed her.
Lindelwa was surprised and amazed behind them.
“Mama” said Samkelo with a soft voice.
“It wasn’t your fault what happened to me. You were just a little boy to witness something horrible. I need you to stop blaming yourself for my death.
Samkelo my boy. I can see your heart is loving the way mine did. You’re going to find a woman that will truly loves you. Believe me. Don’t become the man that took me away from you.”
Samkelo nodded his head rapidly, crying further, now of happiness, and to finally release the wrenching pain and guilt inside him.
Thembi Luthuli began to glow in a bright light.
“Remember, it’s wasn’t your fault” she said before disappearing into the light.
Lindelwa was relieved and happy, that it had worked for the good for both in the end. Now she hoped Samkelo will be a changed man from now onwards.
And hopefully KwaDayeni section won’t have this kind of evil again, so Asanda’s soul would rest in peace, though he would be remembered of misusing girls.
-see you again in the second episode ❤️