THE OTHER BROTHER
CHAPTER 44
THE DAY OF THE FUNERAL
DUMISA
I thought I was going to come here. I have already told myself that I will not be sending my mother off. But my heart couldn’t let me. Entering the gates feels like I am entering a house I don’t even know. A house I am not familiar with. I take a deep breath and walk towards the house. Everyone is up and down preparing for the day. I walk in the house, and everyone is minding their own business. Thabi told me to come directly to mother's bedroom. There is a letter that she found that she assumes belongs to me. They found the letter while she was cleaning.
“Girls.” I greet them. Their eyes look puffy and swollen. I know they have been crying. I feel bad that I was not here for the past few days.
“Babana.”
I sit on the bed and sigh. I suddenly feel heavy. Yes, my mother was old, but I was not ready to lose her. Thabi gave me the letter.
“We found this while cleaning. It has your name on it, so I kept it safe.”
“What is in here?” I ask.
“We did not read but we noticed that it is a letter written to you.” I nod my head and put it in my pocket. I will read it when I get time.
I decided to stand in the mountains and read through the letter. Everything is foreign to me but then again, all the action was there. The treatment, being outcasted at all times. A few tears drop and I struggle to breathe. What can I say. Life has a way of showing me flames. Now I wish I never knew who my father really.
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It is her send off. I didn’t agree. I was ready to say goodbye to my mother, but I shined my shoes, pressed my clothes and put on a tie. The funeral director pulled over into that same car park along with the hearse and their cars for the immediate family. The same guy put on his hat and walked into the road with his cane. He gave a brilliant walk - for a person who is walking with a cane. We got to the service, and he stopped and got out and walked the hearse in a very traditional style. I could see friends and family in the funeral home through the glass. Got out of the car. Mum’s coffin was on a trolley, and I had practiced that I will not cry no matter what. I have to stay strong – I know that would have been what she wanted. It is a very difficult time for everyone. Parents just do not live as long as their children, so children have to go through that in life. What has comforted me at a funeral service, was how many OTHER people were there, each for their own reasons, but to honor the deceased with their presence, it’s like a last “goodbye.” Difficult, yes, but it can be a measure of comfort. My mother’s funeral is difficult, of course, but I had been gone from home a long time. This is extremely difficult. It just worsened the grief we already felt. But in other ways, it was a tremendous help to know her better and how deeply others loved and respected her.
I am standing at the back of the tent looking at everyone. It still feels unreal. I feel my chest closing. Not because my mother has left me. But because of what she went through. Looking at my uncle I feel my whole-body boil in anger. I shake my head and control what I feel inside. My ranting thinking is being disturbed by my cold uncle with his wise funny words.
“You are in our prayers, God Bless. May your mother rest in peace and continue to guide your way in life. Losing a parent is never easy, may you find solace in the lovely memories you shared with your mother. Suffering the loss of your mother pains and stings unlike anything else...”
I can’t stand here and listen to this shit. I walk out of the tent. They will meet me at the graveyard!
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Her funeral was the best. No one has ever seen me, and I believe they think that I did not make it to the funeral. I am here well and kicking. Everyone is seated in the dining room. The sun has not even set yet. My mother was buried not so long along, and the family is deciding who stays behind and who gets to take what? Over my dead body will that ever happen.
“Where were you when she was living here all alone? Has one of you ever decided to check upon on her just to see if she was alive, and okay? Today your fucken people are here claiming what belongs to her kids.” I hiss.
“Mshana...”
“Vala umlomo wakho sikhohlakali. Do not test my patience.” I feel like spewing all my vomit on him.
“Kahle ndodana ngolaka. Kad...”
“Yey! You do not get to tell me what to do. You people are all evil. You knew very that my mother was being molested by this man throughout and she ended up conceiving me. How cruel can you people be?” I see the shock written on their faces including the cold Ngcobo. I took the letter out of my pocket and threw it at Ngcobo. “Nawe all along you knew. The blackmail that you have been laying on the table. How cruel can you be? Blackmailing your own mother just to get what you want? Do you know they trauma she went through because of this man? I still find it hard to b live that we share the mother.”
I feel tears filling my eyes. It’s the pain that I am in. “I remember how I always asked my mother who my father was. I was told that he died in car accident. And that the family never wanted me. I remember how she always told me to never raise an issue with anyone from this family because you hated her. How can you hate someone for being raped! How stupid can all of you be. You know what, I wish your kids to be raped multiple times. I curse every generation of your kids.” My chest is rising up and down in anger. I see everyone’s eyes pop out. I am dead serious. I do not care what the consequences are. I look at Sixakekile and he is failing to even look at me in the eye. Such a coward. Such a disappointment of a brother. Why did he not die the time he was born?
“And wena.” I point out at him. “You will die and the hands of your own family.” With that said I leave them seated. I want to have fresh air. Tears gushing out one after another. If I do not die out of heart attack today, then that means I am beyond strong.
BACK AT THE HOUSE
Everyone is seated quietly still trying to process what has just conspired. This is something that they never thought would have come out. It’s obvious that Ntombintombi told that boy. This was meant to be a secret that was meant to be taken to the grave. It’s something that the family swore never to share. Their chests were hard as a rock. No one breathed a word. Khuphukile the uncle was the bread winner of the family. He started having his way with Ntombintombi when she was only fifteen years. She told her mother what was happening. Her mother confronted Khuphukile and he bluntly said if this ever comes out – he will stop supporting the family. Mother had no other option but to push things under the carpet in order for them to have something in their stomach. She was treated like a queen after all. Pleasing a man is not that hard – that is what Ntombintombi was always told.
“If your uncle wants. You should give it to him. Or else, he would stop paying for your school fees.” Ntombintombi had to endure the suffering. She passed her matric with flying colors. Hoping she would go to varsity – she was declined that opportunity. She had to satisfy her uncle's hunger. She tried running away at the age of twenty-one, which she succeeded. She later got a boyfriend. It was fine and all rosy. Five months later she found herself pregnant. The question that came to mind was. Was it the child of her current boyfriend or her uncle? All she ever wanted was to erase that man’s face out of her mind. She wanted to get rid of his scent. But looks like it was too soon because she couldn’t tell who the father was. The boyfriend later cheated, and she decided to go back home to the sexual abuse. The boyfriend did not even care to look for her and the baby. In her mind she has concluded that the child she is carrying belongs to her uncle. The name Sixakekile was the name she thought would suit the name of her first child. She wanted nothing to do with him. She had resentment towards the child. No love was there. She never breastfed him. There was no slight love, and she knew why so. The child was taken care of by her mother while locked herself in the room crying herself to sleep all day. Two years down the line she was pregnant again. This time around the pregnancy was different. She loved it from the get-go. She connected with the baby in the early stages. She felt blessed in a way. That is how the name Dumisa was introduced to this child. She gave birth and it was the cutes thing on earth. She loved him more than anything. They were inseparable. Years went by and not even once had she ever tried loving her first son. Sixakekile tried by all means to be noticed by his mother – the mother only had her eyes for her son Dumisa. Dumisa seemed to be the blessed one. The one that always does good for everyone, but they always find wrong in what he does. On the other hand, Sixakekile was the one that was loved the most. Ntombintombi tried by all means to shield her child Dumisa in which she was successful throughout the years. Life was hard but she made life for herself. She moved out of her parents' house to make a living for herself. The first stages with er out of her home were hard but she managed to sustain herself. Dumisa was fortunate enough to get a living for herself. From then their life was smooth. Years later greed visited, and everything was turned upside down.
“I swear this child was cursed in his mother's womb. Who speaks such of their family.” One of the aunts says breaking the ice. Everyone has been quite trying to digest the outburst of Dumisa.
“Can we please just try finding a way to sort this out.” The uncle says shamefully.
“Trying to hide your dirt will not help. You slept with your own niece and now face the consequences. You and your mother were just as evil.”
“Dansile, there is no need for you to open old wounds. As I said. We should find ways of sorting this out.”
Aunt Danisile shakes her head no. “I will never be part of this. Neither I was ever part of it. I bleed for my sister's child – I wish I had done something back then. Maybe she wouldn’t have had kids with her uncle.” She sniffs. She was never pasrt of this.
“What do you mens Danisile?” Khuphukile asks with shock dancing on his face.
“I am too old for this. My bosy is tired and I need to rest.” Danisile tries standing up but she fails. Khanyisile walks in... “Sbani saGogo. Help me stand nana.” That is how she always called her when she ways young bet she doesn’t even remember any longer. Khanyis smiles and helps her stand.
“You still call me like that?” She asks.
“You still remember/’ She asks out of shock. She was very young back ythen. It’s a pity Ngcobo torn the family into pieces into his schemening and everyone felt for it.
“I remember how you use to put me on your back because I used to kill Gogona’s chickens.” They both laugh. With her wobbly feet. Danisile manages to reach the bedroom that was provide for her stay. She slowly sits on the bed and sighs.
“Thank you, my baby.”
“Anything you need?”
“Ah. Nothing at the moment. Gogo is tired and all she wants is sleep.” Khanyile lays her comfortably on the bed and puts a blanket on her. She kisses her forehead and walks out.
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Later that evening Sixakekile hammered himself with a lot of questions. What did aunt Danisile mean exactly? Is Khuphukile his father as well? What really happened to his mother? He sighs and stands up. He needs answers and only one person can answer him. He looks for Khuphukile around the yard and he finds him sitting beside the rondovel.
“Are you indeed my father?”
Khuphukile lifts his head up. Looks like the old man has been crying.
“I don’t know. You mother came back pregnant with you.”
“Why did you do it?” He asks. Is it too late to fight for his mother? Khuphukile looks at him blankly. “Did you make you feel like a man. How did it feel sleeping with your own niece?”
“That is not the way to talk to an elder.” He retorts. Sixakekile chucks shaking his head. This is not the answer he expected and wanted. He wanted him to tell him why he did it.
“Can I do it to your kids too?” As old as he is – Khuphukile manages to stand firm and face Sixakekile.
“If you touch my kids. I swear that you will follow your mother...” Sixakekile does the unthinkable. He punches him so hard across the face. The old man staggers back and holds his aching jaw.
“Did you just punch me?” He asks out of shock. Another punch follows. Blood oozes out of his mouth. A tooth comes out flying.
“Sixakekile!”
He pants in anger and pushes him aside. He falls flat on the ground. Now he understands his mother. He now understands her pain. The abuse she endured was beyond one could take. And on top of that he had to rub salt on the wound.