Realities – Chapter Seventeen

As women we just have to accept that of all the flawed creations made by God, the dick on a man stands over and above the rest. The way it controls how they think, what they do, and whom they think they are is so profound most women do no understand. I had a patient at work whose dick was severed in a car accident and we had to cut it off. In that accident two people died and I remember distinctly that he was lucky to be alive. He mourned as though he had died too over the fact that hos manhood had been taken from him! That’s why they mess up so much. For a man it is the single most important thing to him. Ask your man and he will tell you that he will rather be poor, live in a mkhukhu and beg on the streets before he will allow you to cut off his dick. That’s why when I looked at my husband I appreciated his patheticism as a man and I was not going to kick and scream. Not yet. I am sure all the kids were out at this stage no more cliff hangers.

So my man had another child over having another child in the last few days. As a woman what would you do. As I was looking at him it was so obvious that he had no idea what he was going to do next about this. I am not sure I wanted him to say anything either. He had confirmed by his shock and stuttering what the Private Investigator had said.

“Nothabo I,”

He started to speak but I told him not today. We had just gotten re engaged what more did I want. I had once said for better and for worse so let’s see what happens.

“I don’t want to talk about so quit whilst you still ahead!”

I told him as I walked away. To punish a man you have to kill him with kindness the moment he expects you to go crazy and ballistic. I always say this even to my colleagues because nothing confuses him more than this moment. Men win arguments because they think they no what your next reaction will be so they already have an answer for it.

“Actually honey, I think we should call Nozipho tomorrow and invite her. There are no secrets between us so let’s get over this now!”

I had forgotten Lintle was standing there. She asked him who Nozipho was and I told her that it was her other sister. She asked her father if this was true and he agreed. She laughed and said this too unreal but before she could react Mapula thankfully walked into the room and asked if she should bring food for all of us. I was hungry and I was not going to make this troublesome man ruin my supper.

“Yes we are going to eat, all of us as a family!”

Lintle tried to hand me back her phone but I told she could keep it. I told her that I was going to trust her to use it wisely because we all needed a fresh start after all. She was soo happy that she jumpedd into my arms and promised me that she would never let me down. Supper was actually a pleasant affair because with her phone in her hand she was so excited she made only the stories on the table. She was almost her normal self. It was what I prefered because for once it meant nor fighting and no moody person at my dinner table. The only person tense was my husband but it was because he knew what he had done wrong. At 830pm my daughter said she was going to bed! This was way too early for her so I asked her if she had no homework. She said she only had one thing which she had done in the afternoon and she could show it to me if I wanted and did not believe her. I told her I believed her and she skipped off to bed. This was all about her phone I am sure! She wanted to go and chat! The way Whatsapp is so addictive though people are going to need rehab soon. It’s ridiculous. People even chat when driving that’s how deep the problem goes. Even at work some of my colleagues, especially the younger ones cannot resist to chat during rounds.
When we eventually went upstairs I prepared the bed for us as I always do. Usually my husband stays to watch TV but today he followed me up immediately. I had new negligee and night dress which I had bought and never worn. I don’t believe in sexy dressing but this one was short enough to make anyone want more! I put it on in the bathroom and made sure when I walked in I walked past him. He was looking and he wanted but he was not getting. I kept on doing things to try turn him on and at one point he tried to touch and I saidd no. He immediately asked,

“Am I sleeping downstairs?”

And I am sure his mouth had run dry from swallowing just looking at me. I know my husband when he is horny. He looks like a puppy that’s hungry.

“No, we are renewing our vows remember. You are never sleeping downstairs again.”

I said smiling at him. He did not know what to do really. When we got into bed I allowed him to put his hands around me. I told him that there would be no sex yet because still had a lot to discuss just not tonight. The whole night I could feel his dick poking me poor soul! I think it was because of that I could not sleep. Around two in the morning I heard footsteps. I know tip toeing when I hear it and when you have a wooden floor it’s hard to mask! First thought, Lintle! You know when you sigh, because honestly you can’t think of any thing else! That was me! When was this acting out going to end.

I chose not to wake up her father and confront her myself. I left my room and followed her outside. I think the key got stuck in the door because she was struggling to open it. I switched on the light and she jumped in shock!

“Oh shit!”

That was her response! There was my 16 year old daughter in a short red dress. She looked like she was dressed for club!

“Really Lintle! What is it I must do?”l

I asked her. He father was woken up by the light I think because he came downstairs.

“What’s going on?”

He asked when he saw us?

“Where are you going young lady?”

He asked her. His anger was palpable.

“I was… I mean… I am sorry!”

She new she was busted. She turned and went back upstairs to her knowing that she was dead for sure. I know I didn’t buy her this dress and when she walked up I could even see her underwear! How deep is that?

I was not sure if she had been going in or out though because she was not wearing shoes nor was she holding any. She smelled of smoke as though she had already been out.

I was confused and whoever she had been with was clearly out side. It must be that boy with the black mercedes.

Her father opened the door!

The person she had been with was walking towards the car. It was not the black mercedes!

Guess who!

“Nelisa Songelwa!”

I said out loud calling to her!

She froze mid-step!

*****The End******

@diaryofazulugal
Mikeatdiary
Michael Nkululeko Maphoto
[email protected]

Dear Mike

The above poem i wrote for my little sis. Thank in advance for your time.
She was raped last week Friday at night in Mamelodi. I was with her by that time and the only reason they could not do the same to me was because I am a little tight so I’m guessing after the one guy tried they figured ill waste their time. I know its awkward saying what I just said considering the situation. Mike it breaks my heart looking at her every day living her life as if nothing else matters. I don’t know how to help her and she was raped by two guys the others where watching out for people. I can still remember them slapping me on my face and telling me not to look at them, the sound they made when their skin hit against her. All I could do was cry. There is not much you can do with a cold gun held on your head. I just thank God for the people who rescued us. She doesn’t want to talk about it and its understandable. At times like these when I’m alone, I think about it.
You don’t have to publish this as it is too long, I wrote it for my sanity

I come from a species of cancers where mind and soul are so fickle that there is little one can do except be a fine specimen
A place where hope had no place because it is filled with regret, lament and a certain fraize for here everyone knew what discontent ment
I come from a place where you never see men but you know they’re there because they’re forever spreading their semen
Where after twelve is lunch and by god the monsters will munch your kids you don’t wanna live in a place like this
A place where kids know how to kill and stash the body where no one can ever see
by Thirteen they smoke, fifteen they’re expert beer tasters and have kids before they can vote
Yes I come from a place where there is no space to place your kids without the fear of them being raped it’s a disgrace, in this place family means nothing because their morals are misplaced
Where six week old babies are fully matured ladies when Malome comes to visit
Where young girls drink and get fucked by their parent’s elders just because his pockets are fatter, one often wonders how old is sixteen really, too young to have a sugar daddy but not too young to quit school and be a goon, a fool whose lungs are forever full with tuberculosis causing tobacco and liver rotting alcohol but am I the same because this place is where I come from
where parents need to beware of their kids in a place like this
After Thursday is Friday and after nine even the nuns want some fun
for at that time gangsters roam the streets like Catholics in Rome
It’s like every tavern you go to you need to
pack an okapi or two
To stab a fool especially if his wallet is full

I come from a place where irate is served as a beverage to bevel boredom in this baren land
where most do what they can leaving what they should to rot in the land of could, would, should have done better but had better things to do, where the youth sniff glue all the while trying to piece up their broken dreams but only seem to dream.
A place where we decapitate our heads of state for we feel that they are to blame
Point fingers and cut the three that remain
our cravings to be lead are rooted in insecurities of discontentment
I come from a place where skeletons never rot and the Shepard eats all the flock
where it’s never your fault so long as your not caught
where only the hot headed don’t mind the heat
In this place there is no rest for the wicked, even the reverent lives on his feet and
The only ones that live on their knees are the counter boys who suck him dry of all his semen
I come from the warmth of my mothers womb and was born into this tomb of torment for we all know the pain of labour but only the mothers are fortunate enough to bare the fruits
But then again they rot in front of her eyes, after a while she learns to despise those fruit
I come from the diseased breed of subliminal psychosis
Behaving quite peculiar

I come from my father, for I am my father’s sun, my mother’s light, my siblings secret weapon, my family’s final fight
Let me not knot my vocal chords but rather strum them in synchronized symphonies as a symbol of the last hope which rests in my generation’s genetics
I come from a place of segregation where one half is hopeless and the other hopes less
Where we mute the protest and learn to censor our own content
For in this place we are educated in misery everything to us is a mystery
Like how empty tins replaced our ABCs with politrics these magicians have the perfect tricks like pulling democracy out of a hat, but they must have forgotten that their foes are rotten
a place where everyone is Zillefied and you don’t need to go to varsity to get a degree in Zumanomics
I come from the tender era in the middle of the Age of corruption for at this time the government seized to function in this place I come from.

Thank You

Mamelodi