MATHONGA

Chapter 5

VUKUZAKHE-

At thirty five, he’s supposed to be somewhere in life. Not on stagnant-station, living off of his father’s legacy. He has nothing to show but a wife who complains about everything and anything.
Bongiwe is coming home today from her father’s house, she’s been gone for three weeks.
He should be happy about it considering they are married. Three years to be exact. But Vukuzakhe gets a headache when he thinks about his wife because that’s what she comes with, a darn headache with no aspirins to cure it.

His heart grows heavy when he drives into the Khanyile premises, he has a good mind to go straight to his rondavel, and sleep. However, he has a crazy mother who will fetch him in his room and bombard him with a million questions.
Ndleleni’s car is not in the driveway, neither is Ntabezikude’s car. He hasn’t spoken to Ntaba since last night, he’s worried. It’s unlike him to disappear without a trace.

As expected, his mother steps out before he leaves the car. He sighs about how he is not in the mood to talk to anyone, he’s not a talker anyway.
He forces a smile when he jumps out of the car, approaching his mother.
Stories about how black don’t crack must be true, the woman has not aged a day in her life. Or is it Vumile’s money that has made her look so young and beautiful?

“I’ve been waiting for you.” Dalisile greets, throwing her arms around him. Vukuzakhe flinches at the touch, backpedalling a little. Dalisile gives him an odd stare, his heart does a mile. He clears his throat, blinking his shifty eyes.
“You’re drunk? And why are your clothes wet?” It’s not a question really, although it sounds like one. He’s grateful that that’s the only scent she can pick up on him, he’d be embarrassed if her senses were that of a deity.
“I’m 35 mother, I’m ought to drink.” Mother? The others went for mama, while he chose to be formal with her. There’s nothing wrong with the term mother except that his comes with a cold tone.
“You’re my son, the future chief. Alcohol should not…” Vukuzakhe raises a dismissive hand, this is the last thing he wants to talk about with his mother.
“Not now, please.” He throws in a whisper.
She sighs, running a manicured hand on her gel-up hairstyle.
“Bongiwe is back,”
His eyes focus in on his mother, his heart does a 360 this time.
“She… she’s back?” He stutters, sometimes Dalisile forgets that her son stumbles on his words. She rolls her eyes, bare and annoyed.
“Yes.”
His eyes move over to the kitchen entrance, he knows that’s where Bongiwe is. She loves spending time in the kitchen.
“I’ll take a shower before greeting her.” He walks away before she can protest.

In the shower, he takes his precious time. Meeting Bongiwe is something he’s not going to rush. She has a tendency of not eating without him, so delaying will not work on his behalf anyway. He will still find her waiting for him.

He’s out just as the hot water starts giving up on him, a pair of long brown pants is what he chooses to wear. Bongiwe hates these pants, she says they make him look like a typical taxi driver.
Whatever she meant by that.
He compliments the pants with a simple white t-shirt and a pair of black crocs. His dress sense is not something to be envious of.

Laughter greets him the second he enters the main house through the kitchen, he decides to quench a thirst he’s been harbouring for hours.
A glass is taken from the cupboard, he has sensitive teeth so he goes for tap water.

“Ma said you’re home.” Her voice pushes against him, making him jump. It’s not out of fright, he just didn’t expect her to follow him here.
A muted deep breathe is taken, he turns to face her. She looks no different from when she left three weeks ago. He was headed for work that Friday, leaving his wife in this same hideous dress and head wrap she’s draped in. He almost sighs at the sight, but curtails himself.
Her eyes are on him, they sweep up and down his frame with a displeased expression on her features, she’s probably mentally complaining.