Frivolous , untamed and unruly best describes Amahle - well at least that is what i saw whenever she was around us , I would love to believe she was a slightly different personwhen in the eye of a different audience asides us ; her family . I admired her character. I was not one to speak for myself so having her as a sister and friend like a protective armour . Siviwe was her boyfriend more like a man-friend if you ask me - he was old enough to be called Malume even for her , it baffled me how she tolerated his scent that reked of black label . I truly believe there is a hold that men have on women, how is it that Amahle could not stand being cautioned or sent on errands by Mama but would allow Siviwe to push her over. An instance was when she went to his house to wash plates and tend to his chicken and pigs . Mama would be struck with shock if she found out that Amahle could be in the presence of pigs - talk less of having to feed them. AS usual in the early hours of the morningwe left to fetch water in the community taps with five of our white twenty litre buckets stained with sand , placed them on our wheekbarrow - that if it could speak would lament on the intensive labour it has been through. As we approach the tap a man driving a toyota hilux with tinted windows and his tires rising the dust from the gravel road drives past us as the dust settles oh our faces tickling out nasal cavaties . Suprisingly he reversed . He then asks for directions to MamDlamini's house and throws in a joke on how Amahle is the absolute replica of our father .Never seemed to understand what it was about adults that lacked a sense of humour - and yet we gave a hesitant chuckle to avoid see,img disrespectful . He offered a ten rand note , for Amahle and myself to share expressing his gratitude as Amahle graciously stretched out her hand to recieve it with a widened smile.
It was the weekend and so we did not necesaarily bother ourselves with homework until Sunday evening when we would panic and lament on how we could have done the work throughout the weekend . Amahle was going to pay Siviwe a visit so I offered to escort her. We got to the gate which was actually the rusty coils of a mattress .Siviwe called out with a husky voice ' yah wena' - I despised his arrogance . So i turned - he then demanded to know who it was that we were speaking to . For a momment i was puzzled , we spoke to numerous people on our way - our village was jolly , filled with the middle dwellers of life , those freshly out of the enclosure of the womb and those who were only a stretch away from the ancestors and best believe you would have met at least one of these kinds and a lost dog on yoor way to one's household considering the strenuous distance it took to get from one's household to another with Siviwe's house being at least thirsty four stone throws away . He further mentioned ' so you and yoor sister have found taste in older men , i see following the footsteps of Anathi is that it ?!' . Suddenly it hit me , it was the man in the Toyota hilux that has got him so aggrevated . Amahle's lips were sealed as thoughthe excessive amount of vaseline she had applied prevented her lips from detaching from one another. With the suspicion and distrust in his eyes still glaring at me - I quickly said witha quiver in my voice and a thickening in my throat ' directions... he.. he was asking for directions'. I left.
to be continued..
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Philophobia the fear of love my defence from affection
Short StoryWe are taken into the story of a young girl from the Eastern Cape raised in a family of domestic violence with her father as a mine worker and her mother as a teacher . Her sisters and friends are also a predicament of abuse and violence from their...
