The Innocent Virgin.

By Mak Manaka

Lost in her take off, she finds herself in bed with another man and confused of how she got there. The mirror reveals the secret as she stares into her eyes, she’s the street’s daughter, her life flashes in front of the mirror, and she catches a glimpse of how she was raised by a single parent.

She is 5 years old and living in the slums of Johannesburg, her mother Gloria works as a cashier at Pick n Pay, they live with an abusive Nigerian in the corrupt flats of Hillbrow not far from Ponte.

Lost in the big City with a 1year old child, Gloria made a lot of sacrifices for her daughter to sleep with a full stomach, lord knows how much she had to endure.

The police crash the Nigerian’s dream, Gloria ends up pawning clothes to pay rent, Pick n Pay is not enough, the 5 year old soon to be 6 wants to know who her father is, because the concerned pre-school teacher hands out an assignment on a family tree.

Trapped in her flight she finds herself stuck in translating her feelings to a man who only wants to debauch her, pay and then leave her. She lives only at night trying to find out a way of surviving. The mundane street life brings tears to her eyes every time she chases after a client that’s not interested in her name, she searches for solitude in a club while going down on some guy in the toilet, she looks in the mirror and catches a glimpse of how much her mother sacrificed for her.

She is 8 years old and very inquisitive, ‘mama, who is my father’, Gloria looks at her with eyes covered in pain, ‘if only she knew the truth’ she thinks to herself, she tells her that her father died in the line of duty, and that he was a police man. Every Sundays she weeps more than Jesus, the cross has a way of reminding people of pain and in Gloria’s case, the pain in truth stares at her, from her daughter’s little eyes.

Ashamed of her face she looks away from her soul and drowns in liquor. Two men take advantage, and she ends up in hospital. In less than an hour out of hospital, bruised and beat up she is out on the streets selling her not so pretty thighs again. Tonight she sleeps alone, business was bad but somehow she finds means to take off and so she flies, tries to sleep but hears her mother’s voice calling in the dark, switches on the lights and no one is there except for her reflection glancing at her from the mirror.

She is 11 years old and goes to a school near by, her mother Gloria moved them out of Hillbrow and went to Yoeville, Gloria now works at a Spar down the road, and as a single parent, she believes no man can walk on water and bare gifts of her freedom. A mountain of School fees and debts invades the quality time a daughter needs from her mother, she works at night keeping Yoeville streets clean, and comes home around 5am, only to find her patient daughter sleeping on the table waiting to say ‘good night mama’. The sickening landlord threatens to kick them out because of two months outstanding rent. Every free chance she gets, she battles banks for a student loan but doesn’t qualify, they move out and find a cheaper place, a single room for the both of them in a commune house around Yoeville.

Finally he looks for his love, lost his collar in doing so, ‘what type of people are these, to strip a man of his pride, then call themselves children of god, after so long they still cant let me be with my wife.’ He thought to himself before embarking on his journey to Johannesburg and look for his love, he still loves her and his face blossoms in smiles whenever he thinks about her.

The lord works in mysterious ways, after 3 years living in the city a man can change but not Terence, he started to work at some Indian store in Fordsburg so he could survive, he rented a cottage at the back of his boss’s yard, and after 3 years of searching with luck not on his side, a man can only do one thing, move on. But just as when he is about to throw in the towel, he sees the face that once stole his heart across the road walking out of Spar, how can he not see her, after all she was and still is his pride and joy. He stops the car and jumps out, Gloria barely recognizes him from across the road as he runs towards her calling her name aloud, Terance’s face looks different covered in a beard, she drops the Spar plastics full of grocery on the floor in shock of what her eyes are showing her, they both hug in tears, and at this moment, Gloria misses the sent of her home town down in the Cape. ‘Where have you been?, I left the church to look for you, Where do you stay?’ as Terence showers her in untimely questions all she can do is smile with her tears running down her beautiful and aging face like Victoria falls. Terence’s happiness is short lived when his phone rings, his boss wants him back, Terence takes her to the house before heading for slavery and promises to come back tomorrow, and before he leaves while still in the van, Gloria tells him about her daughter and that her father was a Nigerian dealer, and inside the house the 11 year old daughter looks over the window and sees them hug.

Inquisitive as always, she wants to know who the man outside was, Gloria tells her teenage daughter that he is a relative from back home.

Covered in lies as she pleasures an old man and getting him to think that she is about to touch the sky, she feels dirty inside and disgusted at the sight of wrinkles on his face and body. She closes her eyes to forget her past, but as the man’s breath gets heavy on her face, she turns her head and sees herself at the mirror with England on top of her. The English man decides to confide in her and tells her about his daughter that ran away because of what he used to do to her, and also tells her about his dead wife, he keeps on telling her how he lost everything, she pushes him off of her, and blinks her eyes then sees another episode in her past life.

It’s July and she is about to turn 16, they now stay with Terence in Fordsburg. Truth still hasn’t surfaced and uncle Terence loves her like a father, she is as beautiful as the sun in spring, reminds Terence of Gloria when she was her age, all the boys at school surround her and bring her gifts, life seems to be back in order again.

Gloria can’t stop looking at Terrence, she wants him but fears to face the truth with her daughter. Gloria’s young woman is old enough to see the glow in her mother’s face when ‘uncle’ Terence plays around with her. She goes on a field trip to Durban, Gloria and Terence do it again. This time its different, they do it slow and passionately paced with every year that went by with out a man or a woman’s touch, they explore each other’s continents every night as though it were their last.

And then, a child of passion is conceived in Gloria’s womb, but her daughter doesn’t know, how wrong for them to keep such secretes away from the innocent virgin.

Terence comes home early one day, while Gloria still at work, he just got fired and soon they will have to move. She comes in the house from school looking tired as Terence’s face, and in his drunk state he thinks of how she could have been his daughter, and now, he despises the fact that Nigeria flows in her veins, trapped in the anger of his past, Terence becomes a beast and forces himself on the soon to be 16 year old. He painfully penetrates his manhood through virgin gates, telling her ‘it’s going to be fine’ as he ravages her until she feels no pain, then ejaculates’ on her light skinned thighs and screams in jubilation.

Gloria comes home and sees the faded light in Terence’s eyes, her daughter is sleeping, ‘but its only 7pm, she must have been tired’ Gloria thinks to herself. Terence tells her the bad news, and tells her that he will find another job, they have a month to look for another place.

Terence continues to drive himself into the now 16 year old, and she begins to love to hate it, and Gloria sees a change in her daughter’s attitude, “where is my daughter”, she questions herself, she’s either out or in her room isolating herself. She now calls him ‘uncle T’, at school she lost her innocence and all the boys lost interest coz she gave almost every teacher some sort of pleasure, boys call her ‘Queen Bitch’, ‘Queen B’ in short. She hates the image her mirror reflects every time ‘uncle T’ and her are done. They manage to stay for another month and Terence is always out looking for a job but comes back home broken, only to forget his failures in between the sixteen year old’s young thighs.

Gloria can feel the seed growing from within her, and decides to confide in her aging daughter, about who her father really is, and as she confesses to her daughter her eyes catch a reflection of her self from the mirror in her daughter’s room, and remembers how she came to the City of Gold.

The young Terence looks at young virgin Gloria with all the love a man can give, this man wounded in his pride, walks with her as his ego, beauty has never seen such a face. She loves him so, night after night, she prays for god to spare them the shame, of living without light.

Many men live under this man’s word, to some he is the Son of God, and to children his hand is cast in gold.

‘Fortune favors the bold’ they say, and bold he was.

Covered in papers of debt, a quiet man in a church robe leads him to victory, though his heart remains at home trying to build a family with no inspiration, until he walks in with strength in his eyes and power of the future in the way he holds her, so masculine, so sensual. Her body longs for him, he comes inside of her and explores the world she once promised him.

A miracle she thought, ‘His blood grows in my womb’, the young Gloria doesn’t tell him because of the collar, and she then wonders as to how it happened because the young father Terence has slow swimmers, he is weak in the cradle of man. Young Gloria keeps her secrete away from the man of the cloth, and leaves behind her man, her pride, her world for a seed that changed her future.

Gloria breaks down when she reads the later her daughter wrote to her before she left.

“my child, with that bastard” shouting as tears flood her face, Terence walks in the room, only to find Gloria weeping, and out of nowhere, Gloria snaps and tabs Terence on the chest with a pair of scissors while screaming, “he was your daughter, he was your daughter”.

Covered in the rapist’s blood she calls the police and sits next to the phone ready be imprisoned.

 ‘I can’t live here anymore mama, the man you said was family turns out to be my father, and do you know what he has been doing to me? He has been forcing himself inside of me telling me if I say anything he will have me kidnapped and I hate him for that, and I hate you for not believing me when I tried to tell you, and thought that I am a silly girl. I am sorry mama, goodbye. Your loving daughter, Ntombenhle’………..

 

  

Stranger to Sunshine

Stranger to sunshine.

By Mak Manaka

Noxolo Mpilo-Jones, the country’s greatest writer. She was the 1^st born in a family of two sisters, both her parents were artists, her father was the country’s well known writer, poet and painter Kwanele Mpilo and her mother Pam Mpilo was an actress and a dancer. Her parents moved from the Eastern Cape to Natal coz the father got a job as a teacher in the University of Natal teaching literature. In the 70’s, a profession in the arts was a health hazard because black writers never got the respect they so deserved and coz of that, life became uncomfortable especially living in a disadvantaged province such as the Eastern Cape. So when they moved to Natal, Noxolo was 8 years old followed, by her sister Nomhle whom at that time was 6 yeas old and the baby Nontsikelelo was 2 years old. Noxolo’s father was a member of the Pan African Congress, he wrote about the pain of his people and how black people must unite and define themselves, he spent half the time either writing or on stage directing or a in class teaching, and his wife Pam collaborated with him, he would write and she would act and dance in the plays.

From an early age Noxolo was familiar with theatre, she was born on stage. In the early 80’s her father left his teaching profession and moved to Johannesburg, they lived in Diepkloof, Soweto. And across the road from their home was an arts and culture center where her father spent most of his time if not all of it teaching fine art on Saturdays for little money, and her mother Pam opened up a dance school, by then Noxolo was about 12 years.

She attended school not far from their home and Nomhle was sent to a boarding school in Natal. 

It was here in Diepkloof where life got a little bit harder and her parents began drifting apart. Her father was becoming an abusive alcoholic, like many black writers at the time, coz by then South Africa was free, and not in the way they fought for it, and that really frustrated him.

He spent time in his study painting and wrote so much work that never got published, people knew him for his plays.  Some time during that time, he wrote a play that went to London, and Pam had to stay behind and look after the children, every Saturday she taught dance. Just before Noxolo’s father returned from Europe, Pam got an acting job on television for a soapie and shut down the dance classes. When her father returned after two months, he was not impressed, Kwanele was threatened by her wife’s artistic growth, he assaulted Pam like she was a man and Noxolo who witnessed everything was devastated. Pam took him to the police, he stayed in the cell for about a week then Pam dropped the case, love can do that sometimes, seeing her parents fight like that affected her so much. After witnessing that vile domestic violence she became very distant, kind of like her mind would wonder. It was her father’s misdeeds that led her to writing coz every time her parents where at each other’s throats, she would take her youngest sister Ntsiki and herself to her room and softly sing for her until she slept, and then write.

It was on the day they went to pick up Nomhle from school that her life changed.

Her father came home smelling like a bottle store, he had come from a meeting that did not go well with the investors and that left a bitter taste in his heart. And so on the way from the airport, Pam and Kwanele got into a fight and he lost control, they overturned with the car.

Kwanele tried to swerve the car from the truck but they were moving so fast, the steering wheel went out of control smashing against the side of a cargo truck. The over turning car threw Kwanele out of the window and he landed head first on the ground, Pam’s face was badly bruised and Ntsiki was paralyzed from the waist down. The father died on the spot that afternoon, and Noxolo never forgave him, she never cried at the funeral.

Three girls and a single parent, and so Noxolo became the bread winner in the house. Pam sacrificed her career and took care of her disabled last born, Noxolo quit school with only one more year to go and got a job as a waitress at a café in Newtown, Joburg’s cultural precinct, this is were she met people from all over the world, and changed her world, she began to read all the time. She would read anything she came across, and before her sifts she wrote and wrote. The more people she came across the more she began to realize her self, though every time she went home she would feel as though she was fiddling with a wound that took a long time to heal, she would clean up the house, make dinner, wash the clothes and try to comfort her mother every lonely night when she wept over the accident. Noxolo felt herself trapped inside of her but every time she was at the cafe, she was free, she was able to be herself and express her self the way a woman does, the way humans do.

The manager of the restaurant decided to host open-mic nights every Thursdays and people from all over Johannesburg came to listen to poets, musicians, and comedians.

She was only 20 years old when she decided to recite her poetry live on stage, after two weeks the open-mic’s had been running, she was extremely scared but calm on the surface, she did a poem about Soweto’s life styles and its the people. The crowd went wild, coz she had the ability to captivate her audience with her commanding voice and her energy on stage. That night she only did one poem and the audience was screaming for more when she was done, she went on stage in her work uniform and performed her heart to the moon.

That night when she got home with an uplifted sprit she found the house empty, Ntsiki was in hospital, she had bedsores that were now very deep into her flesh. That day she was in so much pain coz the sores had affected her skin, her small left thigh was swollen. They didn’t have enough money for the bedsores to be surgically removed, when Noxolo got to the hospital her mother sobbed when she walked in coz in some way Noxolo reminded her of Kwanele coz when Noxolo and her sisters were younger, he was very strong for the family and keeping them together.

Ntsiki stayed in hospital while Noxolo now worked double shifts every day trying hard to raise money for her sister’s operation.

Every Thursday Noxolo would perform like there was no tomorrow. People started coming only to see her perform and then after dazzling the audience with her poetry she would return to work, serving people drinks and food. She was becoming known as the young force from Soweto, every Thursday she would escape on stage and forget the past that fueled her performance. Every night when she came from the café after the exhilarating open-mics, she would tell her mother how people loved her and how they cheered for more, and her mother would discourage her and want her to stop, fearing that she might end up like her father.

She managed to raise money and paid for the operation, the bedsores were removed but the family’s joy never lasted when Nomhle’s outstanding school fees came knocking at the door. The school she went to in Natal was now promising to kick her out if the outstanding amounts were not paid so Pam decided to take her to a cheaper school in the township near their home. Nomhle would pick up Ntsiki from her so called ‘special’ school after school and Pam got herself a job as a receptionist for one of Kwanele’s friends who ran a communications company in the city.

Noxolo continued working double shifts coz in that café she was Noxolo and half of the people who came on Thursday nights now came every other day of the week just to be with her, she had an outgoing personality, she became employee of the month for three months until an older man approached her and wanted to know how much would she charge him for a performance at a private function. She didn’t know how much to charge him coz first of all she didn’t even know that money can be earned from poetry. She got R2500 for her first gig, after that news started spreading and Noxolo was in demand. She would get calls to come perform along side people she admired, in the art community people who knew her father would tell her that she was more articulate than her father.

With her new job Pam paid up all the hospital debts and schools fees and Nomhle was doing her last her, everything seemed to be fine. An article about Noxolo was printed on The Sowetan newspaper, the article spoke about her and where she came from, it also spoke about her father how this country forgot about the genius. Her mother read it and started to cry, she was unaware of how Noxolo’s poetry affected people, and so one Thursday night without telling her Pam went to the open-mic and saw her daughter win the hearts of people with her words, that night she did a poem about the strength in her mother. She went outside and waited for Noxolo until she knocked off, Pam had managed to buy a car, a white Conquest. When Noxolo came out she saw how many of her colleagues surrounded her in smiles and laughter, she was doing most of the talking, she saw a different person and when Noxolo saw her stepping out the car, tears of joy ran down her eyes, her mother congratulated her and she had never been so happy to hear her say that.

Pam called some of Kwanele’s friends to come see Noxolo perform the next Thursday, after the show she got a deal to publish her poetry.

She quit her job and focused on poetry, every night she was out, in a month she would make about R10 000 to

R20 000, she saved all her money to take her sister Nomhle to varsity after graduation and help with Ntsiki’s medicine, Pam had never been so proud of her.

She was only 22 when her book ‘NOW’ was published, she was every where, on television, newspapers, radio, 400 copies were sold on the first night of her launch, she was now a celebrity. She went overseas, performed in places her mother dreamt of.

While she was traveling all over the country, performing and giving workshops to school children about not doing drugs, her sister Nomhle was becoming an addict, I guess she was feeling pressured by Noxolo’s success. On the day she had arrived from London, her sister Nomhle OD’d the night before, her mother was devastated. They buried her next to her father’s grave, her sister’s death traumatized her, she continued to perform but the spark in her eyes was lost. Then Ntsiki’s bedsores came again, two months after Nomhle’s passing and this time around they were worse than before, her left leg was amputated and cost the family a lot of money.

Noxolo had never had a boyfriend, so at 25 she was a lonely poet with past issues haunting her dreams, a show was held at the café she used to work in and she was the main attraction, that night was phenomenal, some people were crying, it was such a memorable night coz that was the first time I met your mother. Noxolo seemed distant the first time we spoke, I had to wait for a while until I could finally speak to her, everybody wanted to speak to her, then finally we sat down, she didn’t even drink alcohol then. We spoke about everything, she loved to laugh, she was a nice person.

We saw each other almost everyday, came to visit me at work, then, I was a financial advisor for Nedbank. She also loved talking about her past life and how she never forgave her father and how she missed her sister. The first time I met with your grandmother Pam, she was very happy that I was not an artist and that my job was money, she would always tell me how bright the future looked every time she looked into my eyes. Pam developed a sickness of the heart, it was weak and every now and then Noxolo would have to take her to hospital, two years after we had been going out, your grandmother, the strong Pam Mpilo, passed away and Noxolo was in America performing, I took care of everything. She was left with one more show when I told her the news, that night she cried before she went on stage and when she was on stage she performed her soul to the moon, that night she got a standing ovation. She got the first flight out of New York and came back home, her mother’s passing really affected her, she couldn’t perform or write for two months, and in those two months she spent her time with her youngest sister Ntsiki. Every time I came to see her, her charming smile was fading and she didn’t laugh as much.

She used to say that all her life she has been a child born to pain, that she was a stranger to sunshine.

I tried every thing in my power to bring her back, I managed to get her a deal with some publishing house to publish her second anthology but she would refuse until her sister Ntsiki said to her if she keeps on feeling sorry for her self, her talent will die then she would have worked so hard to see their last name go to waste, for a 20 year old I guess Ntsiki grew up before her time. And so Noxolo agreed to publish her second book of poems, ‘Here I Stand’, she was now 30 years old and felt like she had lived. One would think that fame changes people but Noxolo remained the same, went to open mics every Thursday, she never forgot were she came from but would always try to forget her own past. She began having an interest in spirituality coz her family were never into ancestors and sacrificing a cow or a sheep for the dead, a woman had told her about a traditional healer she must see, and that she had a dream about Noxolo asking her for help. Noxolo began seeing more and more of this lady, that day your mother came home depressed, it was the first time in months since her mother’s funeral I had ever seen her so depressed, she told me that the lady took her to a healer and the man told her that, she was going to die lonely, he told her that her father is not happy and that is why Pam and Nomhle were gone, Noxolo ran out of the old man’s room, he told him how her family was doomed. I was stunned, I mean I was shocked, how do you tell someone something like that, it was like, how could Morpheus put so much pressure on Neo.

Noxolo got a deal to publish another book of short stories about her life experiences titled ‘Write On’. After this book, you came, and that was her happiest moment ever to see her baby girl. We named you after her sister, your late aunt, Nomhle.

You came at a time when so many things were confusing to your mother, that is why when you were young, she wasn’t around much, always at hospitals, she became delusional after you turned 8, before she went to hospital she would wake up in the middle of the night, go check on you then talk while typing on the computer, your mother wasn’t crazy, she was going through episodes of her past life at that moment, I heard her talking to her father while she was typing. She was admitted to a psychiatric ward and I then send you to my parents in London and took care of your mother, oh, how I loved her so, when Ntsiki came to see her, she would cry then keep quiet and listen to her speak about her new boyfriend, how much he doesn’t see her as a disabled woman and that he proposed, and while Ntsiki was speaking I could see her eyes glow, it made me sad to see her like that, she couldn’t talk properly, her speech was slurred and she looked dazed.

I saw her everyday after work, her doctor once told me that, Noxolo had a tough time letting go and that her sister’s death really affected her coz every night she sleep talks and cries her name, and apparently she had a lot of repressed memories, the doctor said that was the cause of her delusions.

She was about 45 years when she died and that man was true, she died alone, blood was not properly reaching the brain, she died the day before her Ntsiki wedding, and so the wedding was postponed. I took all of her work to the same publishing house and wrote you down as the inheritor of her rights, they are your birthright so when you are lonely and feel like you cant breathe, look to your mother’s art and listen to her voice, she lives in you, you even look just like her. So you take care of yourself and enjoy your 21 birthday, your mother would be so proud of you and don’t you ever imprison or sacrifice your happiness. You are not a stranger to sunshine.

I love you baby.

Sincerely your father

Richard Alfred Jones.     

Rasta

RASTA
By Mak Manaka



This guy, what’s wrong with him? Does he ever get enough? Weekend after weekend he’s here, either with me or with that slut Thuli or one of these girls if he cant find both of us. He’s good for business though, but bad for my health, coz every time I am with him, it’s either he wants me to snot or pipe-up. Shit, he did it again, “Rasta, Rasta, wake up man”, fuck, “Chris! Chris!” eeish, this stupid Nigerian, where is he now, his fucken best customer is pasted out on my bed, “Rasta, Rasta wake up, Chris! Rasta is sleeping again!” Shit, he is not waking up, oh my god his eyes, “Rasta come on, wake up”. Jesus, he’s OD’ing, fuck, what do I do now? “Rasta wake up, please, don’t do this to me”.
Who could be calling him at this time, Lerato girl, just leave it and let it ring its none of your business. “Phew! thank god he is not OD’ing, Rasta can you hear me?” “Its me Lerato” he is too wasted to even hear me, “Chris, Chris, Rasta is finished, look at him he is useless, and anyway its late. Shh…listen he is saying something, he wants you to take him home”. Bloody Nigerian, he even knows where he stays, I wonder how long has Chris known Rasta, now I have to help him put Rasta in his car, eish. Prince and some other friend of theirs follow Chris and Rasta in Rasta’s car, but why all the trouble, anyway, “Ok, me I am going to sleep, take your keys”, Rossetenville at night or around this early, can be tricky, especially with the pigs being everywhere, taking money off these Nigers, and getting free blow-jobs from us so we wont have to spent a night in their dirty stinking cells.


Rasta’s wallet, he was married? Damn, so he’s real name is Nlhanlha, Nhlanhla Khubeka, born 1970 on September the 4th, no way, his birthday is today, well yesterday. No wonder he was drunk.

Oh shit, Rasta’s phone? Where is it? Who could be calling him at this time, ah, there we go, what the hell? Thuli? “Foetsek, sefebe, Rasta is with me, go fuck your self”. Crazy bitch, she wants to get high again, if only she knew where Rasta is right now, another phone call? “Wife?” don’t answer that phone Lerato, let it ring…………


Not again, he always does this on weekends. What’s wrong ka Nlhanlha? “Hi you’ve reached Nhlanhla please leave a massage”, “Nhlanhla ke na, where are you? We haven’t heard from you since Friday and its Sunday early morning, please answer your phone. We have to take the baby ko ma bitleng, to your father, remember?”


Good day Joburg, 12?, my god, I slept all morning, what a night.…………Chris’s car, and no noise in the house where are they, I wonder what time they came back. Ah yes, its Sunday, they at church, its funny that they are heavily religious and yet at the same time they are corruptors but anyway who is perfect……….20 missed calls damn, it’s a good thing I put Rasta’s phone on silent…

“………You have 13 new voice massages, to listen to your massages press 1…”

“Hi you’ve reached Nlhanlha, please leave a massage”
“Nhlanhla its me again, o bone ke nako manga, call me back”.
I hope its him calling, “Hello, Nlhanlha?, oh hi ma, yes, the baby is fine, we should be there before 9:30, he’s fine, see you just now ma, bye”, “If your father is not here in the next 30 minutes baby-boy, we are leaving without him. He was out the whole weekend having fun, I understand it was his birthday yesterday but he forgot that he has a family, don’t worry my love you will grow up strong and responsible not like your father, there we go, how does that feel? Clean and comfy, not wet and heavy right?” I wonder where could he be?

“Hi you’ve reached Nlhanlha, please leave a massage”, “Nlhanlha…eeish…Nlhanlha, I am sorry baby, I am so sorry. I wanted to tell you on Friday, Nlhanlha, ngi zo hlala ngi ku thanda baby…Thandi speaking call me when you get a chance”

“Hi you’ve reached Nlhanlha, please leave a massage”
“Nlhanlha wake up man, we need you to cover a story, Holomisa’s daughter OD’d last night, she’s at J.G Strydom, not far from your house. Wake up man, we need you there at 10am for a live feed, peace”

“Hi you’ve reached Nlhanlha, please leave a massage”
“Rasta, my brother from another mother its Ike call me back, I got new stuff for you mabrada”

“Hi you’ve reached Nlhanlha, please leave a massage”
“Nhlanhla Mzilikazi Khubeka, mntanami, ukuphi? Your wife is worried about you. She was crying about how you spend less time with your family, your father and I never raised you that way, kwenzejani mfana wami. I remember when you had just turned 15 and we had just buried your father’s brother, remember what you said, you said you never want to be like him, abandon your family for alcohol and drugs. Remember when your father bought you that new bicycle, and you didn’t ride it for a week coz you were afraid to fall and hurt yourself, I remember how hard your father was on you. You are our only boy, my first and last born, your father was so happy when he found out it’s a boy. Nlhanlha mntanami, I have stood by you all these years, even when your father was against you marrying that sweet girl but after what she told me, I am so disappointed. Call me back my boy we need to talk”

“Hi you’ve reached Nhlanhla, please leave a massage” “Jahman, u sa lele, we still hooking up later right? Coz last night I tried some other dealer so, shit bra, zi ya buya mfo, anyway, call me back player, S’bu la”

“Hi you’ve reached Nlhanhla, please leave a massage”
“Hi baby, I tried calling you last night and that bitch Lerato picked up, I told you not to see her, give me a call instead you know I will do everything for you. Anyway malove, I‘ll speak to you later, bye baby, Thuli here”

“Hi you’ve reached Nlhanhla, please leave a massage”
“Nlhanlha, what’s going on man, its 11am now, and you were not at the Hospital covering the story, we’ve been trying to call you all morning, you’ve cost us brother, anyway I want you in my office tomorrow morning, bye”

“Hi you’ve reached Nlhanhla, please leave a massage”
“Nlhanlha, its me, I am getting worried, u ko kae? I just got a disturbing voicemail, I thought…I thought you stopped, maara why Nlhanlha, we need to talk abut this when you get home. Your son and I are getting some stuff ko shopong, I hope you back when we get here. I love you no matter what”

“Hi you’ve reached Nlhanhla, please leave a massage”
“Rasta my brada when are you paying me, I’ve been holding your stuff for 3 months, I am selling everything mabrada, call me dis is Richie”

“Hi you’ve reached Nlhanhla, please leave a massage”
“Mshana hu malume la, ukuphi? Your mother is not happy about what’s going on with you, hamba ekhaya ndoda. You are a man now and not that quiet and naughty silly boy who used to follow me around and ask me for money, usuya sebenza manje and you have a family now, musa uku khathaza umamakho mshana, you guys have been through a lot. Remember after your father’s funeral, how your father’s family forgot about you guys and gave you none of his inheritance? Mshana you are a big man now take care of the only family you got. Call me back we need to talk”

“Hi you’ve reached Nlhanhla, please leave a massage”
“Nhlanhla…….baby……I am pregnant. I wanted to tell you when we were together on Thursday night but I didn’t want to stress you coz you kept on going about your problems at home, anyway please call me back love, this is Elaine, I love you baby”

“Hi you’ve reached Nlhanhla, please leave a massage”
“Nlhanlha this is Thandi, it was not my fault, please understand, Nlhanlha……eeish……I am infected and we’ve been sleeping without a condom, I found out this past Thursday, Nlhanlha please forgive me”


Damn, Rasta was messed up, he is a father, he is HIV positive, and the pregnant colored girl Elaine, eeish…..Rasta’s family, shame poor son. I don’t understand what happens inside of people’s heads or life or whatever, to just destroy the things they love most, I just hope he got home safe, his wife was so worried.


“……A well known award winning journalist was found dead in Westdene dam by a civilian, he had been missing since last week Friday. He drove off the road and went straight into the dam, his face was badly bruised and his chest had a deep cut, the police are investigating the murder, he shall be dearly missed, and in other top stories, Holomisa’s daughter is still in hospital after surviving a fatal OD at a friend’s house in Melville, and private detectives wipe out the entire drug world of Westbury, more than 50 people were arrested and amongst the 50 the majority were juveniles………


Oh my god, Chris, have you heard what happened to Rasta, what? He told you to leave him down the road from his house, oh, his wife, he wanted to sober up, but then how does he get to the dam then?


“Top story at this hour, the police have discovered that Nhanhla Khubeka, the award winning journalist’s death was drug related……”


Dear Diary, its been two weeks since he’s been dead and they haven’t found the culprit, let them write or say all they want, but Nhanhla was abusive, he cheated on me and his baby, and I know he was doing drugs but told me he stopped, and what even got me more angry was that colored girl Elaine, she had the nerve to call and tell me she is expecting my husband’s child. I am so sorry baby, I am sorry I had to do that to you, growing up without a father is tough but we will make it you’l see baby boy. But your father was a piece of shit, he deserved it, I should have burnt him instead of the dam but anyway…. I tried to make a happy home big-boy, lord knows I tried.