Bhekokwakhe

Chapter 33

BHEKOKWAKHE

In one stroke, the car started hitting the road moving a mile a minute. I could hear honking as it continued to accelerate. I could feel a brittle being plopped between me and my daughter. As her shrill cries still beats my heart.

What has life become?

If my daughter is not taken away. It is me who is separated from her, the barrier is becoming too thick. Is this what they meant: when they dotted it down that the City of Gold is the destroyer?

Because I can feel it in my bones also. Life was splendid back in Maphumulo, in the land of my ancestors. I didn’t have much; the trumpet of making things happen. However my world was like a full moon. Everything shined bright even at night. My daughter was my heartbeat and my world was complete.

I came to the destroyer with one aim, to gather a goble of cash, to place my life in some order, however it has proven to be something that is playing far away from me.

The car has been moving for decades now and it seems like we aren’t reaching our destination. My head is roaming around with regret. I have always avoided at all costs in my life getting involved into fights because I hated the bitter consequences that followed. Now I stand a chance to win a criminal record which means my chances of finding a job are slim and or maybe destroyed completely.

-

Times flies and we are still on the road. You could tell by the galloping speed of the car we still have a long journey ahead. I thought the trip to the police was a few seconds away . Now I’m getting alert, Are we still heading to the police station, after what felt like decades the engine finally dies.

The door is creaked open.

“Phuma, ndoda” (Get out, man) – the other officers yanked me roughly. My landing on the ground is a little hard. The sun blinds my eyes, I rub my eyes a little bit trying to get a clear view.

My eyes got embraced by four men and one amongst them was hugged by a black suit, while others were drowning in casual clothes. Not to let this slip out of my mind, black precisely was the ruling colour and a lady who was cladded by a tight dress. A mere glance you get intimidated. Expensive cars were lining up on the side of the road. Where am I? No cars are coming this side, nor any trace of a settlement, only wild plants own the space.

“So you are the Bhekokwakhe, The one who got my daughter acting like a hooligan. The man who got my daughter, thinking that she is smart?” He chuckles, bolting towards me. This could be the one and only Ntate Molefe.

I glance at him, his cologne dominating my nostrils. “I don’t know what you are talking about Sir” really, I don’t. Kenosi is trying to claim her sanity, after years of being oppressed that doesn’t make her a hooligan.

“Cut me some slacks, you know what I’m talking about. Since you started working in that house everything has been going East instead of South” he bellow, looking directly into my eyes without blinking. “Chanakya, bring that parcel” he orders, still looking at me. I’m not barking down, I stare back my nostrils flaring.

Wow!

Is this the same Chanakya? That was two-timing Mr Mokwena a few days ago or is just a coincidence. If not, money is the root to all evil.

A bag thuds on the ground, causing me to shift my eyes from him to were the sound came from. “Open it” He chirps an order, my eyes trudges back to him. “Go ahead” he tilts his head to where the bag is mercilessly pooling.

I slowly crawl to its position, slowly unzipping the bag hesitantly.  Mandela’s head meets my eyes, causing my eyes to get bigger. The bag is filled with Randela’s notes.

“What is this?” I ask, a touch of amusement in my voice. “That my boy is something that you need to disappear in my daughter’s life, forever. You are messing up with my plans” he rumbles, shamelessly.

“That bag has more than a million, I believe that will be more than enough to set your start” how insane is this man. Is this what he believes Kenosi is worth? Is she a cow?

“No” I set my foot down.

“No?” That comes like a question from him because you could sense a question mark on his tone. “Yes, ‘No’ if you think Kenosi is some object you can own then you are wrong. She is not some livestock you can place prices on” I grumble like a man in love, feeling like I deserve a pat on my shoulder for standing up for my girl. As Butterflies flutter my stomach.

He heaves, “Boys rough him up a little bit” after those words, punches evoked, kicks accompanied punches. I had to take them like a man just groaned here and there and not scream like a girl.

-

KENOSI

Hours have passed and I have been holding tightly on dear Langa. I thought this is my break, little did I know that this is a trap. I have been sitting on the door counting hours. Peering at the gate hoping to see Bhekokwakhe launching inside and that moment never came.

Nobuntu has even left to where God knows.

Langalibalele is even sleeping in my hands after sucking her bottle dry. I want to move but I can’t. I move my eyes from Langalibalele, to the gate and I see Bhekokwakhe walking towards me, limping, with a black sport bag draped on his shoulder. I stand up, quivering Langa from her wink rushing towards him.

“Are you okay?” I ask, alarmed.

“Ngizoba right,” (I will be) – he says, limping to his room. I follow him, like a lost puppet. He starts shoving his belongings on the swing rolling bag he brought at the end of the month.

“What is going on?” I muse, shocked, even Langalibalele is crying in my arms. I’m trying to hush her. “Change of plans, we are leaving” He says holding my head. Suppressing Langalibalele hard on my body.

Shock lace on my soul, “We?” I furrow my brows. “What do you mean we?” I’m puzzled right now. Even confusion doesn’t seem to be the right word in my vocabulary.

“I mean exactly that, don’t ask me questions” he puffs, dismissing me.

“I’m sorry but I’m not leaving if you don’t tell me what is going on” I jab, he steps back to look at me. “Too bad you are, it’s not up for discussion” he chides, slowly moves close, suffocating me with his scent.

“Yes you are leaving, I don’t want to bury you. I want to wake up and see your face everyday. I want to raise my daughter with you. I want Langalibalele to have siblings and you are going to mother them. I want to make love to you, slow strokes, long strokes, harsh thrust, deep thrust. I want to feel every inch of you. I want to hold you and say nothing. Ngifuna ukukuthanda, like there is no tomorrow and uma ufile, I can’t” (I want to love you. If you are dead) – he is singing my favourite lyrics, simple yet meaningful. He kisses my forehead and moves back to what he is doing.

“What is going on?” Everything is spinning too fast for me. He takes Langa, “I will explain later. For now I want you to drive out using your car, I will send you a location where will meet”

“Should I pack my clothes”

“Honey, we don’t have time the sooner you leave the better” he says, I don’t ask questions. I just spin around. Plans don’t always work out, but I hope this one does. I’m crossing my fingers and toes. My engine roars to life, I say a silent prayer.

‘Let this be a long walk to freedom’ I hold my breath.