MATHONGA

Chapter 7

VUKUZAKHE

He wakes up covered in thick sweat, he thought the bad dreams were a thing of the past. Every year on their death anniversary, he’s haunted by a burning rondavel, heart wrenching screams and two tiny coffins.
He’s reclined on the king-sized bed, feeling like a crumbled up piece of paper, it’s not an unfamiliar feeling not strange either. Twenty four years later, and he still can’t shake the guilt of failing his brothers.

A strong breeze catches his attention as it lifts the curtains, the windows have been left open.
Red rimmed eyes scan the airy bedroom, he’s alone, it’s a relief in a way.
He doesn’t have to face an angry wife so early in the morning.
The digital clock on the wall says it’s 07:07am, it’s a Sunday today. He made sure to set meetings for the whole day, just to avoid a certain somebody. Had they been on good speaking terms, he wouldn’t have had to force his behind to work on a Sunday.

The first thing he does before he gets out of bed is send his greetings to the family group chat. Ntabezikude is the first to reply with a kissing emoji.
Hlabela forwards a long bible verse from the book of Psalms and says it’s about time they add uncle Dumile’s wife in the group because she blesses them with a scripture every morning.
Coarse language is what follows his message, not caring that he just invited the Most High into the group.

*Where’s Mathonga?*
He’s the one Vukuzakhe is mostly worried about, last night he found Mathonga’s room locked. He had no choice but to go back to the rondavel he shares with his wife.

*I’m here bhuti, having a hard time choosing an outfit for today. Shorts or jeans?*

A picture of the two is sent, they all tell him to wear whatever makes him comfortable.

*Where were you last night, wena?”

Vukuzakhe is not okay with his little brother travelling alone at night.

*I have a life, bhuti.*

The little brat throws back. Vukuzakhe doesn’t reply but goes in search for someone else on his contact list. The person has WhatsApp, but there’s no profile picture. 
He can’t say he’s not disappointed, he was looking forward to seeing a profile picture. The face he hasn't been able to forget.

With his wife around, his waking moments consist of an already made bath, masculine bath soap, towel and the day’s outfit picked out for him.
Today is different, it’s as if she never came back from her vacation. He has to do everything from scratch, Bongiwe is somewhere around, putting her wife tender to use.

The long mirror in front of him reflects his outfit for the day. Not bad. If anything, he’s never gone wrong as far as formal clothing is concerned. Maybe he should stick to it since his dress sense leaves a bitter taste in his wife’s mouth. 

“I think this will do.” He’s talking about the black pair of chinos, the crispy blue shirt hugging his bulging biceps, now he needs help with this goddam tie. Had it been up to him, he’d ban ties from the company.

It’s a new week, and of course life continues. A little distraction will do him good, he’s been too focused on things that will get him into trouble, things he should not be thinking about.

He wanders out of the room with the tie around his neck, and smiles at the sight of the one who makes his heart dance, his little brother—Mathonga.
“Ngwane.” He’s still smiling as he curls an arm around Mathonga’s shoulders. The younger welcomes a frown as he’s taken aback by the sudden affection.
“What’s happened to you?” Of course he’d ask. His brother does not salute with hugs. However, can’t his brother be happy to see him alive? He’s grateful for life and family.
Vukuzakhe snubs the question and leads the way to the main house, Mathonga is not far behind. There’s silence between them, the young man knows when not to push.