Phakade Lami (My Forever)

Chapter 29 (Is this what you want)

The Sandton Mansion looks very beautiful at this time of the night and one must admire the beauty that it screams, when the moon shines over it, in the night.
The corridors are quiet and one can see the different pictures of the family members, carefully placed on the wall and Hector’s huge portrait in black and white at the centre of those pictures.
It was taken on Easter Sunday, when Hector had organised a huge party for everyone at the mansion, and even invited his own family to come to the party, it was one of the many first huge parties hosted at the Sandton Mansion.
In the living room, Nkosi is sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and he is in tears and they’re streaming down on a fast pace as he looks at the picture of a young beautiful girl in his hand but quickly stops when he hears someone entering the house, he immediately stands up and goes with his gun to see who has just entered.
He is about to aim, when he sees it’s Hector and his eyes are purely red, it’s as if he has been crying for hours and hours.

“Ma... Why are you crying,” he says as he puts back his gun and stands at the same spot, obviously trying not to move next to him, just in case he gets another slap from him, and not forgetting the photo that he has quickly shaved into his pocket.

“Why didn’t you tell me that... that your girlfriend killed my younger brother with poisonous gas,” Hector says with tears.

“I was trying to protect you... but I now know that I did wrong and I beg you to please forgive me,” he says with his head down.

“Follow me... Nkosi,” Hector says as he moves to the living room and upon their arrival, they sit opposite each other on those sofas that Ziyanda had begged Hector to convince Zimele and the brothers to buy, they caused an arm and a leg but at least it was bought, and they truly compliment the house.

“First and foremost, I want you to please forgive me... I should have never slapped you and what’s worse... I shouldn’t have disrespected you like that... after all you are my... my husband’s elder brother and the second eldest child of the family,” Hector says.

“In all honesty, I truly deserved that slap and if it will make you feel any better, that slap was so motherly in a way that it was as if my own mother was reprimanding me,” he says with a smile as if trying to break the ice in their conversation.

“How did you meet her, your fiancé... I want to know how she was and everything about her,” Hector says as he slowly wipes the tears streaming his face like a river.

He rests in the chair and let’s out a deep sigh that comes with tears, as he tries to remember what he had chosen to forget.
“Her name was Zawadi, which meant gift in Swahili, she was still very young and most definitely beautiful like the women from her country, Tanzania.
She was only 21 years old, when she began working at those carwash points near the taxi rank, where my father’s,” he stops.
He excepts to hear “a please don’t stop” but Hector is silent and his eyes are glued to him, and his legs crossed.
“Where our FATHERS taxis were operating (and slowly Hector nods)... she had recently gotten the job to support herself as she was faraway from home and home was in Tanzania, she was staying with a close relative in this country, who had brought her to study but instead never gave her the “studies” that she needed and therefore got for her a job at the cash wash,” he stands up and moves to the bar section and comes out with alcohol, obviously the brown juice and places it on the table, normally Hector would shout but to him, anything that will make Nkosi to tell the pain that he had been hiding, is a good thing.

“She was very stubborn and seriously believed in her Islamic religion, despite the fact that she was working in a job that required them in pants, on a single basis, she usually wore her hijab on every single day and every single time... the first I got contact with her was the day, I was washing one of our Taxis at their carwash and she was the one washing it, I tried to make a conversation with her but the answer that I got, was more terrifying than the person and that’s when I knew that I should never get into an argument with a person from East Africa, most especially Tanzania and Kenyans... those ones will strip you naked with insults,” he says making Hector to smile as he looks at him, gulping down the whisky in one go.
“I finally found her at a place where she couldn’t escape and that was her house or rather the place where she was staying with the relative, she nearly dropped the plate of food in her hand, when she saw me at the doorstep with three different plastic bags in my hands and they had everything... I’m talking about cosmetics and the usual female things that I had gotten from Mabutho’s wife... I looked at her as she had no hijab on and her hair was as long as possible, her eyes quickly moved to my back, I then turned around and I met the relative, and she was angry maybe because Zawadi had no hijab on her head but her anger went down, when she saw the quality products that I had gotten from ShopRite, Ma.. you should have seen her, she was so happy and even brought me inside, and presented some of her ugly daughters to me whilst Zawadi went to put on her hijab, it turns out that Zawadi wasn’t the only girl in that house,” he says as he moves next to the window frame, trying to fight the feeling of removing his cigarette to smoke, in the presence of Hector.