Phakade Lami (My Forever)

Chapter 31

It’s the 29th of October and it’s a Wednesday, and also something tells me that these men along with their cargoes, don’t know where they’re heading too but something tells me again, that they’re on the right track.
Now they is something that is always unsettling about searching for a place that you don’t even know and the unsettling thing about it, is that which you seek, isn’t always that which you find, something that could have been avoid by their parents and grandparents, has led them to a place that they don’t even know off.
They drive past a few rural areas that have vast beauty right within the colourful lands that Eastern Cape carries and a big beautiful lodge that seems to be owned and operated by white people --  yes it’s white owned property, much of our lands across the country if not the continent are owned and operated by Europe’s offspring’s.

They immediately see the sign on the roadside and it’s written, Nqamakwe in capital letters and Mabutho whose always driving, looks at Nganono, who let’s out a deep sigh, whilst nodding his head that looks like it was recently given a thorough chiskop and let’s not talk about the fact that Prince and Nathi are fast asleep, and as for Harriet and Ziyanda they’re both asleep, Hector said that they couldn’t leave Ziyanda behind and that was due to her condition and who was going to take care of her, is it Angelina whose always at work or Lerato that has to take care of her sister that was recently operated, not to talk that they have been burdening her with their ever demanding babies.

Zimele is carrying Harriet’s glorious baby boy and Hector is looking out through the window as Nkosi carries and plays with Buhle, who has refused to sleep.
Something tells me that this girl will be a total opposite of all the Dlamini kids and that she will be treated differently, more like a princess, even not a queen.
They finally stop the car, when they realize that they’re going around in circles and that’s when Mabutho decides to step out of the car and stop this young man, that is carrying a spade and is wearing blue overalls, with those black boots that are usual used for gardening.
Something tells me, that his is a gardener.

“Sorry bafo but do you where I can find a place or rather do you know a family that is called the KaDikana or Dikana family... something like that,” Mabutho says.
The man removes his hat and immediately let’s out a deep sigh as he uses his hat as fan.
“I honestly don’t know what you talking about... or maybe it’s my mind... the heavy heat is messing up my mind... maybe if you take me in your beautiful taxi... I will show you the place,” he says making Mabutho and Nganono shocked.

“Let him in... something tells me, that he is telling the truth,” Hector says.
“But Ma... this man here... looks like he hasn’t taken a bath in years... what if he makes the air dirty and tries to suffocate my babies,” says Zimele, who is looking at Zithulele in his arms.
The man smells himself and sees that no, he is not smelling and looks at them, with a 'idotic' smile.
“Listen to Ma and let him in,” Nkosi says.
Though the man is confused as to why they’re calling a young man like Hector, Ma and showing him such respect, he is only interested in getting himself in that taxi by all means, after all the heat is unbearable.
Mabutho looks at him from, head to toe, and let’s out a sigh as he looks at his yellow teeth, that is being sun kissed by the sun.
“Shame, Nganono... you will drive... they is absolutely nowhere in hell, that a whole me, will sit with him,” he says as he hands over the key to him, sometimes I feel like deep down, Mabutho is an unnecessary diva.

Nganono is left, mouth opened as he looks at the way, Mabutho is entering the taxi and leaving him, with yellow stone.
“And you... why are you laughing.... Is they is something funny or is they a problem,” he says as his confused as to why is this man, is busying showing his teeth, like who really wants to see his teeth and throw up.
“Ah, they is no problem,” he says and with that they enter in the taxi and Nganono begins driving as Mabutho sits next to the window of the taxi, trying to avoid the horrendous smell that has filled the taxi.
“So, which direction should I take...or should I keep on going straight,” Nganono says looking at this man, who has seemed to cool down from the hot sun, one thing you should know about Eastern Cape, Gauteng, Western Cape is that when it decides to be hot, it’s hot for Africa and when it decides to be cold, it’s coldness can even make Hell cold.

“The place that you guys seek or the family that you guys are looking for, doesn’t exist anymore but... they is someone that is connected to the people that you are looking for,” he says, leaving everyone in the taxi amazed, and when I tell you everyone, each and every single soul is awake because this man can smell for Africa.
“And who is this person that is connected to the place that we are looking for,” Nganono asks, as he looks at this man with confusion.
“It’s my grandmother... Thembeka Hlophe – KaDikana,” and immediately the entire taxi becomes silent, not because the Hlophe is familiar, it could be a coincidence but the fact that they’re close to finding their long lost family, it’s surprisely a win but an unexpected one.
“And your grandmother is a KaDikana... How,” asks Hector, who is breaking the silence that had befallen on everyone in the taxi.
“My grandmother was born into the KaDikana family through the second wife of the family, and upon her only brother’s death, who was born from the second wife, she’s the last surviving member of the KaDikana family tree,” he says, making the entire taxi, more silent as they ask themselves that could this man with a smelling mouth be their cousin.
Hector moves to the front row seat and takes a seat near Zimele, who is carrying Zithulele and he is still asleep, something tells me that this one will be very polite, let’s just hope that he doesn’t end up like his dodgy uncles and father, God please let him be like his name.

“Do you know anything regarding this bead and this tool,” Hector shows him the communication tool that is known as Vimbo and his colourful bead, leaving the young man shocked.
“Who are you people and how did you get this... it’s only the...,” Hector stops him midway.
“It’s only the chosen one that is meant to carry the Vimbo and wear the bead that resembles it’s colour,” Hector says with his eyes widen open at him.
“I ask again that... who are you people,” he asks shivering and this time, even that smile is gone.
“We are your family and you are a part of these men, as they’re a part of you... blood runs deeper than water, isn’t it ,” Hector says with a smile as he stares at the man, who has grown to find himself in his worst nightmare, as he looks around and sees the silent faces that are all looking at him.
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Something tells me that these particular roads that Nganono is taking, have actual seen cars and not once or twice but a lot of times.
As their taxi drives off, Hector can see people working in their farms and somehow this breaks a smile on his face but something catches him off guard and that is the beauty of the home country and the fact that it’s nature, personally Hector has always loved places like this.
Nganono stops the car as the man who is frightened, points them to the yard, that is right in front of their eyes and I can tell for a fact that the owners of this place, were extremely wealthy and powerful, in their own right, I mean the yard, may look old with long grasses around it but shame, it looks like it used to boast of great beauty and a great majestic view, in it’s Heydays.
They remain mouth opened as if they’re standing in great awe of beauty, despite the fact that the house has no gate --- I think that they stole it and one can see that this magnificent house, is in the middle of other small houses which look ‘finished-off' as some others have open roof tops and others the paintings, that looks old.

“So, Ma how come this house looks so old and rusty for my liking.... like gross... ewww... I want to sleep somewhere else... not in this hellhole... has Ubaba brought us to hell,” Nathi says, I always trust him to make things less awkward, much like his uncle, Nkosi.
“Brothers, let’s do this and get over with... I am already tired,” says Nkosi and with that, they exit the car but Hector tells the two women and two boys to stand behind, Harriet immediately carries her baby boy, whilst Hector carries his own daughter as Nkosi steps out lastly.
Mabutho and those men, follow him and they stop at the gate, when they see a very old woman moving towards the house but something is odd, this old woman is literally crawling herself on the dusty soil and as she moves to the gate, she looks at them with an examining eye.

“Nathan, Who are these people... my child,” she says.
“Well gogo, this is... I don’t know how to explain it... maybe they can explain it to you, but mostly certainly... we can’t talk such matters outside like this,” he says.
“Alright move with them to the shade over there, I will join you people in a minute,” she says and looks at Nathan, like she is excepting her to carry him and obviously he does that.
They all enter but Hector remains in the taxi with Ziyanda and Harriet, and the two boys who have the taxi windows and are busy pointing to the people that are seen from down the hill, as I failed to mention that this house is up the hill.

“If this all thing... turns out to be nothing but a mess, I fear that these men will hate you,” says Harriet, who is already breast feeding her ‘Zithulele’.
“Well, if they like... they can hate him but at least he would have bought this far and I personally and most sincerely appreciate what You Have Done for this family,” Ziyanda says with a smile, looking at Hector who is sitting at the back with them.
“I appreciate the kind words, Ziyanda... and as for you, Harriet, if things go south and they don’t find what they’re ancestors want them to find, then it’s absolutely none of my business, because I know that with or without the ancestors I am loved” he says with a pasted smile as he turns to the mirror, leaving Harriet with anger.

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This old woman is holding a cigarette in her mouth, yes that woman that was dragging himself on the ground, is actually sucking the soul out of that tobacco, now you would wonder where Nkosi inherited it.
She pulls out the last burning smoke out of that cigarette and releases it, straight into the air as she looks around at the handsome faces that are all squashed in one long wooden bench and looks at the man that brought them, who is sitting on a stool chair next to them.

“I remember it, like it was a yesterday and I remember the way... my family used to tell me the story, I was still a very young girl then, I was beautiful and I had everyone’s love, yes I was only the daughter of the fifth generation in the KaDikana family dynasty.
It all started with a man, a powerful man... who was known for his handsome features that I can truly see amongst you boys, most especially you,” she says pointing to Zimele, she then let’s out a sigh as she throws the cigarette in the ashtray that was placed near her, by her grandson, the mouth-smelling person.
She looks a bit like Buhle, I mean Buhle may have had their mother’s beauty but she takes after this woman’s features.

“The man’s name was Siseko KaDikana and he wanted to marry, a very beautiful and a down to earth, woman that was truly the epitome of beauty, she was said to be poor and from a very dysfunctional home but still Siseko loved her.
They were about to get married and build up their family, when something unfortunate happened and it almost resulted in the death of his family’s fortune... Siseko had no other choice but to consult the powerful traditional mediator that was available during their time, and he said to him that “Nothing is more important to a man, than his head and nothing is of great use to him than his own hands,”.
She looks around as she slowly removes the last cigarette from the already finished box of cigarettes, that clearly says that tobacco kills and as she looks for the lighter around her, she doesn’t find it, and that’s when Nkosi uses his own lighter to light it, for her.
“Thank you, my dear boy,” she says as Nkosi slowly goes back to sit down.
“He was conflicted as this meant that he had to marry another woman, in that way... he was bringing someone else into his private sanctuary... they were going to be three and that is a bit of a crowd but luckily the ancestors were on his side and they provided him with beads, colourful beads and he was told that the colourful one should be given to the one he loves along with something called a Vimbo,” she says.

Immediately he and by he, I mean Hector’s soon-to-be husband looks at his hands which has the Vimbo and raises his head to look at the old woman smiling, one can see the teeth are gone, but shame, she has a beautiful smile.

“The one that he marries for wealth, should be given a one colour bead... the colourful bead should or will be passed down from one generation to another generation, and as for the one colour of the bead, it will vary, depending on the carrier.
So he married them both in one day and as they stood before him, he placed the colourful bead on his first love and other one, got the ‘one colour bead’ and from there, this tradition continued and it went on for years until it arrived to us... me and my only sibling... my brother... your now dead grandfather,” she says with a lone toned voice as if trying not to remember what happened to him.

“So, Grandmother... I am not sure if I am supposed to call you that but I... I want to know how we can end this... I mean we want to be part of this family but how... the history is not important but it’s important for us to create our own history, we want to reclaim our position within this family... will you help us,” Zimele says.

“I know and I can see that you are not interested in reclaiming the land but rather you interested in not losing the love of your life, the one who wears the colourful bead,” she says leaving all of them, with confusion as to how does she know about the ‘love of his life’, who is obviously Hector.

“I remember how I usually used to pray to the Ancestors and how I would cry, when I would see that, which my brother’s family and his generation is supposed to be enjoying... is being finished off by some other people... it pained me and it broke me into pieces,” she says as she throws the already finished cigarette into the ashtray.

“By which people,” asks Nganono.

“When you grandfather died and joined the ancestors, my father... your great-grandfather was heartbroken that his only son had died at a such young age and he didn’t even leave for him a son to continue the KaDikana dynasty, it was me and him... his mother was the first wife.... the one with a colourful bead and my mother was the second wife, but we were very close for step siblings and that was how I knew that the Vimbo remained in the place where he was before he returned to Eastern Cape from KwaZulu-Natal and according to him, he was sure that he had impregnated the woman, who he had chatted with but never even knew her name but yet found comfort in her, both physically and emotionally.
Upon his death, my father was left with no son, so everything went to my useless - lazy husband who was from the Nguni Tribe particularly the Zulu people, he died last year and from him, it went to my son, who was and is still very greedy... you want to reclaim your position and the name of this family... then you will have to get what’s yours from your uncle, Terrance Hlophe and some call him, Bab’Hlophe he stays in Johannesburg,” She says.