CHAPTER 29: FAMILY STORIES

 

Narrated by Mapaseka Mokoena

We stayed in bed for most of the morning, wrapped in each other's arms. The city of Johannesburg hummed below us, but up here, in my house the world felt small and quiet. Qondanisa traced lazy patterns on my bare shoulder, his touch sending small shivers through my body.

"Tell me something about yourself," he said softly. "Something I do not know."

I thought for a moment.

"Growing up in Ga-Rankuwa wasn't easy," I said. "My parents worked hard, but they struggled. My mother always said I had to be better, do better, achieve more. She pushed me so hard I almost broke."

He was quiet, listening.

"But you did not break."

"No. I survived. I went to university, got my degree, built my business."

"What about you? Tell me about growing up in KwaMashu."

He was quiet for a moment.

"KwaMashu is not a big place," he said. "Everyone knows everyone. It is full of life, full of laughter, and full of people who work hard. But opportunities are limited. 

If you want to build something bigger, you usually have to leave home. Most of us grow up dreaming of making it beyond the township, then coming back to give something back to the community."

I smiled.

"And you did exactly that."

He nodded.

"I did."

"What gave you the courage?"

"My father."

His voice softened.

"He worked hard—very hard. He fixed cars to put food on the table. He woke up at four every morning and often came home after nine at night. I never heard him complain."

"He sounds like a remarkable man."

"He was. He used to tell me, 'Qondanisa, don't ever let where you come from decide where you'll end up.'"

I smiled.

"And you listened."

"I did. Everything I am today started in that little workshop behind my home. "

"I built Q Squared Mechanics from nothing. But he never saw it. He died before I could show him what I had built. Before I could tell him that his son made it."

I felt my heart ache for him.

"Qondanisa..."

"It is okay," he said quickly. "He lives in me. In the workshop, in the way I treat people."

I reached up and touched his face.

"Tell me about your mother."

His face softened.

"My mother is my rock. When my father passed, I told her to stop working. I would take care of her. I could not bear to see her struggle at her age. She cooked, she cleaned, she made sure I had everything I needed. She held our family together with love, food, and prayer."

"She sounds like an amazing woman."

"She is," he said. "But she also has a funny side. Let me tell you about the time she tried to fix the TV."

I laughed. "What happened?"

"My mother does not understand technology. Our TV kept freezing—the picture would stop, and the sound would keep going. Instead of calling someone, she decided to fix it herself. She gave it a gentle hit on the side with her hand."

"No!" I said, laughing.

"Yes! She said: “ These machines are like stubborn children. You just need to remind them who is boss.” And guess what? The TV started working again!"

"No way!"

"I am serious! She was so proud of herself. She said: “You see? Sometimes you just need to show them who is in charge.”

I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe. "And it really worked?"

"It worked every time. Whenever the TV froze, she would hit it, and it would come back. Until one day, she hit it too hard, and the screen went completely black. My father came home and found the TV dead."

"What did he say?"

"He just looked at her and said: “ Mama, you fixed it so well that it will never bother us again.” She did not find it funny. She was very proud of her work."

I wiped tears from my eyes. "Yoh! Your mother is something else!"

"She is," he said, smiling. "She is the strongest woman I know. But she is also crazy."

I wanted to share the same with him.

"My family is not like yours," I said carefully. "My mother is not warm like yours. She is difficult."

"Difficult how?"

"She wants me to marry a Sotho man," I admitted. "A successful Sotho man. To follow tradition and be what she never got to be."

He was quiet.

"And what do you want?"

"I want to love who I love," I said. "I want to be happy. I do not care about his tribe or his job or his background."

He smiled.

"I am that man?"

"Yes. You are that man."

He kissed me deeply.

"Then let them think whatever they want. I am not going anywhere. I will prove to them that I am good enough for you. I will prove it every day."

I took a deep breath. It was time to tell him about the pain I had carried for so long.

"There is something I need to tell you," I said quietly.

He looked at me, his eyes full of concern.

"What is it?"

"Before you, I was hurt. Badly. I was engaged to a man named Kabelo. He was a good man, educated, successful, handsome. He ticked every box on my list."

"And?"

"He cheated on me with my friend. I caught them at his place. He told me he was working late, so I went to bring him food—and walked in on them. I trusted him with everything. He destroyed it all."

Qondanisa was quiet, his jaw tight.

"After that, I did not trust men," I continued. "I built walls. I made my lists. I pushed everyone away. I thought if I made it impossible for anyone to get close, I would never be hurt again."

"And then I came along."

I laughed softly.

"And then you came along. In your overalls, covered in oil, refusing my money. You did not tick a single box on my list. But you made me feel something I had not felt in years."

"What did I make you feel?"

"Safe, seen, and loved."

He kissed me.

"I will never hurt you, Mapaseka. Never. I am not like him."

I looked at him, searching his eyes.

"What about you?" I asked. "Tell me about your past. Tell me about the women before me."

He was quiet for a moment.

"There are not many," he admitted. "You are the first woman I have ever loved, Mapaseka. Truly loved."

I stared at him.

"Really?"

"Really. My first girlfriend was in high school. Matric. It was peer pressure—everyone was losing their virginity, so I thought I had to too. It meant nothing. After that, I was always busy. Fixing cars, building the business, taking care of my mother. I did not have time for women."

"So you never had a serious relationship?"

"No. There were women who wanted me for my money.  I could see it in their eyes. They did not love me. They loved what I could give them."

I felt my heart ache for him.

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. They taught me something important. To protect my heart and to wait for the right woman."

"And you think I am that woman?"

"I know you are."

I laughed softly, shaking my head.

"You know, when I first met you, I thought you were a typical Zulu guy."

He raised an eyebrow.

"A typical Zulu guy?"

"Yes. I thought you had a list of women waiting for you. I thought you were just playing with me. "At first, I thought you already had a wife. I kept thinking that one day you'd tell me you wanted me to become your second wife."

He stared at me for a moment. Then he burst out laughing.

"Yoh, nkosazana! You judged me again!"

"I am sorry! I did not know you then!"

He pulled me closer.

"Let me tell you something, Mapaseka. I am not that kind of man. When I love, I love deeply. I love with everything I have. I do not have the energy to love another woman. I do not have the desire."

I was quiet, listening.

"There is no way you can love two or three people with the same level of love," he continued. "It is not possible. So why waste that person's time? Why hurt them just to satisfy your ego? If you cannot love someone fully, let them go. Let them find their person."

I felt tears in my eyes.

He looked at me, his eyes burning with intensity.

"Mapaseka, you are my person. My one and only person. My love for you will be forever. It will be us until the end of time. And then the little ones, of course."

"The little ones?"

"Our children," he said, smiling. "The little Qwabe boys and girls. With your eyes and my stubbornness. With your intelligence and my heart."

I laughed, wiping my tears.

"You have already planned everything."

"Of course I have. I told you, nkosazana. I do things properly."

He kissed me, and I melted into him.

But then he pulled back, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Let me tell you another funny story about my childhood," he said.

"What is it?"

"When I was seven, I tried to fix my father's car by myself. I thought I was a mechanic already. I took a spanner and started loosening things. I did not know what I was doing."

I laughed. "What happened?"

"I loosened the brake line. My father came out and saw me. He said: 'Qondanisa, what are you doing?' I said: 'I am helping you, Baba!' He looked at the car, then at me, and said: 'My son, you are not helping. You are making sure we do not stop ever again.'"

I burst out laughing. "He was funny!"

"He was," Qondanisa said, smiling. "He always had a joke. Even when times were hard, he made us laugh."

Then it was my turn.

"Let me tell you about me," I said. "When I was growing up, I wanted to be a doctor. So I would pretend to fix my dolls. I would wrap them in bandages and give them medicine."

"Did you fix them?" he asked.

"No! I made them worse. My mother found me once with a doll that had a broken leg and a bandage around its head. She said: 'Mapaseka, what are you doing?' I said: 'I am helping them, Mme!' She said: 'You are not helping them. You are sending them to heaven.’"

Qondanisa laughed so hard he almost fell off the bed.

"Yoh, nkosazana! You were a funny child!"

"Still am," I said, smiling.

He kissed me again, soft and warm.

"I love you, Mapaseka."

"I love you too, Qondanisa."

We lay in each other's arms, laughing and talking until the morning sun filled the room.

It was perfect. It was home.