My brothers- your kids Mthandeni, are doing so well for themselves. Except, we are all somehow deranged. Excluding Khethabahle, because he grew up with a loving father figure and a healthier mother. Bra Mthobisi did the best he could for us. Especially for Khetha, he didn’t want him being an angry teenager like the rest of us.

“Why are you so interested in that man?” Ziyanda asks me.

He’s wearing a navy blue uniform, and has a gun neatly tucked in on its holster. He’s a station commander.

A woman walks past the table, she sees all 5 of us. She smiles.

“Are you brothers?” She asks

We nod.

“You’re like the same person. Older and younger versions of each other.” She tells us, and walks off.

We know that’s true, because we look like you, Mthandeni. We are the exact photocopies of you. We have your complexion, stature and face.

“Answer the question, Avethandwa” Simhlelile says, sipping his latte.

“My therapist says..” I stutter.

“Oooh my therapist” Bafana laughs. “You’re seeing a shrink?” He asks

“Stop it, okay? I just need to understand why he did all those things. Do you have his numbers?” I snap.

They all shrug.

“Last I heard, he moved to Amsterdam, with his wife and youngest daughter.” Ziyanda offers.

“And his other daughter? Does anyone here have her numbers?” I ask again.

“I got them” Khetha says.

He’s still in his school uniform. He’s currently in matric. He’s so quiet and shy.

“You talk to them?” Bafana asks

“They’re my sisters.” Khetha replies

We all go quiet. We never got to know the girls.

“Give me.” I say

“Why? You promise you won’t bother her?” Khetha says

“Man, that’s my sis…sister too.” I struggle.

He finally gives me her numbers.

“What is she doing now?”

“She lives in Cuba, currently studying medicine. Thingo, the youngest one, lives in Amsterdam with dad and her mom.” Khetha clears up.

Cuba and Amsterdam?

You did a good job separating us, Mthandeni.