The Besotted

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Vivid called me yesterday to tell me that his family wanted to talk.

Naturally, I told them to come to me. If it were under different circumstances, then I'd have no problem crossing the tracks for them, but since they want to take my child away, they can come find me.

I used Mam'Ntombi's health as an excuse. It was her idea, not mine.

Now, if you think my temper is shorter than Chris Brown's life in Stomp The Yard... then you have yet to meet the woman I get it from.

We will try to be amicable because we have DNA in common with those sons of bitches but nobody is taking Nene away from me, that I swear on my momma.

I just need to....prolong, evade until something bears fruit with those jobs Zayn told me about. That's where I'm placing all my hope because at this point I can't fill another Z83 form. I don't have the money to apply for work, job hunting is a job itself and it hardly ever pays.

I just need a little time... a couple of weeks. I hope God is on my side on this one.

The Mooketsis are due in an hour or so but I've been up all morning cleaning and preparing food.

I might not have any uncles but I wasn't raised by animals.

I will not give them the satisfaction of saying a bad word about me or Mam'Ntombi.

The house is spotless, the yard is as clean as soil can be and I have cooked them that seven colours Sunday meal-- had to wake up and go to the market for the veggies I wanted, the Pakistani at the tuckshop only had onions.

I went all out and don't even get me started on my outfit...

It's not that dress I wore to lunch, it's a bit more conservative and its beige, long sleeved and matches the doek I wrapped my hair under even though they didn't come together.

Then I have simple sandals because I also won't let them think I'm that I'm nothing short of a good mother, that I'm a street thing because I had a kid with their kid -- why girls are always judged by guys aren't is complete bullshit but that's a fight for another day...

I mean I know I have it all stacked against --- baby at an early age out of wedlock, I work in the city, I work nights in the city and all my friends in the city.

Then I happen to be pretty, which is somehow also factor with the fact that I dress nice, that dress that made a whole billionaire ask me out is all the evidence, and it's all suspect. Where does a girl of my social standing get the money to look down? Never mind that I make most of my clothes and the really nice stuff are hand me downs from those same city friends.

But I'm always away at night, I'm always in the city all night, I'm pretty and I look good so I must be some kind of whore unfit to take care of their child not to mention my mother is slowly dying of AIDS and I don't have a father.

I know what that's what they think of me because those are some of the reasons that they've spat in my face long before I even shared a kiss with Lebone.

It used to bother me so much and it still does, I don't even care if it's the truth... I just... I don't need to be reminded every seconds about my shit of a life, my brain does that every second of every day... I don't need someone else to do it especially these shit ass black people who have a little more money and somehow think they're better than everyone else.