The Other Brother

“I am telling you...” I am saved by my ringing phone.  

“I got to take this. It’s my mother.” I say.  

“Mah.” 

“Your father needs you right this minute.” just like that she drops the call on me. I take a deep breath. I know why I am needed.  

“Babe look. I have to go home. I am needed.”  

“Hope everything is alright.”  

“Everything is fine. It’s just my father who needs my father who needs me.” Khanyisile is very understanding. Her understanding is out of this world. I rush out of her ward; I spot her family from a distance, and I try by all means not to cross paths with them. I don’t want to be questioned. After dodging a bullet - I headed straight home. 

“We have been advised by the Khanyile people that you need to send a letter asking for their daughter's hand in marriage.” My father tells me.  

“What!” I am appalled. My father cannot possibly do this to me. He just cannot take decisions for my life.  

“You do know that you are making a decision based on my life, right?” I have to ask as a reminder. This old man should know his lane.  

“Yes, and there is nothing wrong with that. Every parent likes to see their children succeed. We sacrifice a lot to get what we want in life. And this is you sacrificing to get what you want in life.”  

“It’s the life that you want baba. I don’t care about gilt and gold. All I want is to be with a woman that makes me happy beside me. Is that too much to ask for? 

“A woman that still asks for monthly allowance from their father. Son, the woman we are talking about owns a very big car. She is building her own house somewhere as we speak. If you marry that girl, I swear it will be the best decision you have ever made with your life. Trust me on that one. You will be practically owning half of the company.”  

“What is the deal behind this whole thing?” 

“There is no deal. It was just us as friends making decisions or our kinds before they were even born. We were young back then. We agreed that my fist child will marry his first child.” My father's explanation is somehow lame. A story I do not credit. There is something behind this whole thing. Something sinister for that matter or is it me reading too much into it?  

MKHUSELI 

I bang the steering wheel trying to get these confused feelings out of me. After that visit from the hospital, I drove straight home to prepare for my business trip in Cape Town. Nothing much but an important business meeting and follow-up on it. I own a cleaning company. With the help of Mkhuleko we managed to build this from the ground and here we are today. We have another office in Cape Town, it’s hard to juggle two companies at the same time. For Cape Town I get help but never trust anyone. From time to time, I go there to oversee things. I am parked outside my house not knowing whether to go inside or not. Mazandi will defiantly tell that something is not inadequate with me. I take a deep take trying to wipe her innocent face out of my mind. I love Mazandi and nothing will change that. I step out of my car and make my way to the house. The aroma welcomes me and my stomach grumbles. I smile watching her jumping from one cabinet to another. With her iPad on the table, I am pretty sure she is taking those cooking lessons. Her cooking is not the best yet, but she is getting there. Mazandi was horrendous in the kitchen. It's true when they say God cannot give you everything. She has the beaty, but I am worried about her brains. She doesn’t want to go back to school and finish her grades. Her last grade was in grade eleven, which she failed. She has no passion for everything. Just being a housewife is what she is devoted to.