Chapter 5 - A Mother's Broken Heart
Mthente didn't answer.
He stared toward the chicken coop, his jaw clenched.
His mother watched him with an expression filled with anger and grief.
“Tell her, Tusa.”
“Ma, please.”
“Tell her why people blamed me when Lindiwe died.”
My stomach tightened.
His sister was dead?
Mthente had never told me that.
His mother turned toward me.
“Lindiwe was my daughter. She was eighteen when I lost her.”
Her voice trembled.
“She was the child who tried to keep this family together.”
Mthente pressed his lips together.
“She worried about her brother constantly. She believed there was still goodness inside him.”
I glanced at him.
His eyes were wet.
“One evening, she went looking for him because she was afraid he'd gotten himself into more trouble.”
His mother swallowed.
“She never came home.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“She died in a road accident that night. And afterward, people accused me of failing to protect her.”
Mthente whispered, “Ma, I'm sorry.”
She turned toward him.
“You've said that so many times I've forgotten what the words mean.”
I wanted to comfort her, but she wasn't finished.
“I went to pastors. I visited traditional healers. I asked community leaders to speak to you. I even begged your teachers to help me find social workers.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I swallowed my pride before people who insulted me. People who said I was a terrible mother.”
Mthente wiped his face.
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
She took a shaky breath.
“Your father broke my heart long before any of this. Then I lost my daughter. And you kept bringing more suffering into this house.”
She looked toward the distant hills.
“I'm fifty-seven years old, Tusa. When will I finally know peace?”
He began crying openly.
I'd never seen him like that.
The man who had once terrified strangers couldn't find the strength to look his own mother in the eyes.
She continued.
“Sandiso is staying with his paternal grandmother. His father's family loves him. At least he's safe.”
She looked at Mthente.
“You have your own house now. You have a girlfriend. Both of you can survive without me.”
“Don't say that, Ma.”
“I have nothing left to hope for.”
He shook his head.
“That's not true.”
She ignored him.
“And don't let your aunts give speeches at my funeral. I've heard enough from them while I'm alive.”
I felt sick.
This wasn't an ordinary family argument.
We were listening to a woman describe her final wishes as though her life had already ended.
I stepped forward.
“Ma, your son saved my life.”
She turned toward me.
I continued.
“Someone paid him to kill me.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“But he refused. He protected me and my family. He's helped us through things you don't even know about.”
She looked at Mthente.
For the first time, I saw genuine surprise in her expression.
“He was paid to kill you?”
“Yes.”
“And you still love him?”
I nodded.
“Because I know what he chose to do instead.”
She studied me for several seconds.
Then her expression became painfully serious.
“My child, I'm glad you're alive.”
I felt a flicker of hope.
But her next words shattered it.
“Now tell me something.”
May you like
She pointed toward Mthente.
“What am I supposed to say to the mothers whose children never came home because of him?”
