Stories By Masego G Diale
PHUKILE (BROKEN), EPISODE 1 BY MASEGO
If life was a person, it would definitely be the hardest person to deal with. One minute he would be happy, then the next all depressed and emotional... life would not keep a particular emotion for at least an hour, rather yet a minute. That’s how fast life changes. Sometimes it scares me. I could be here this minute and gone the next.. Is it safe to say if life was a person he would be bipolar? You would never know what to expect.
No moment is forever; trust me when I say that. I know it. Just 12 years ago I was dressed in my navy blue and white uniform standing at assembly waiting for class allocation, first moment in my life where I had to let go of my mother’s hand and actually be me. With teary eyes I watched mom walk away, she blew a kiss at me when she reached the gate, she had a blanket on her shoulders it was a bit chilly, she had woken up early that day just to make fire to ensure that I have a warm bath and porridge before she accompanies me to school.. I could sense that the day meant a lot for her just as it did to me, I could just see by the prayer in her eyes. Starting primary school was and will always be a big deal.
I am my mother’s forth and last born child; We are all born of a different father. No don’t do that look as you read, she is a broken black woman in a broken black society, what do you expect? Of course men looked for their long lost mothers in between her legs, they sweat on her neck and face and every part of her you can think of, they even sweat in between her tights...and when she thought they have found their mothers from broken pieces of her as a “girlfriend” thinking they would stay because they have at least found a motherly love they knew before, they left.. Now I have two brothers who are looking for their fathers’ in-between the legs of other women and a sister who is looking for a father’s love sleeping on the chest of older men, I am my mother’s last hope.
It’s not 12years ago now... it is now!! and the pressure is far more intense than before. I just passed my matric; yes I got my results in January. Bachelor’s degree with five distinctions and boy oh boy am I talk of the village. My mother already told almost half of the people here that I am going to build her a big house and buy her a car. Is it just me or black parents officially think you are a millionaire after completing matric? I don’t even know what is the plan from here, I am not even sure about the career I want to pursue. I just realised I attended all my school years for my mother, I did what she wanted me to do, I took science because she always believed (still does) that I am intelligent and I shouldn’t waste my time on anything else. So I listened to her in everything because I didn’t want to disappoint her like my brothers and sister.
Mom constantly says I should study towards being a doctor, but I can’t I am really scared of hospitals and the smell of them makes me throw up. Did I mention that I am do not like blood? Yep. That too.
I was always focussed on my mother; I never really got time to focus on myself, now I am here. No bursary. No funds.. No career choice, please former matric leaners tell me you can relate?
Sorry for being rude, I didn’t even introduce myself. My name is Phukile, my mother named me broken, well I am not. She is, or was or has been or in between the three. All she can say when I ask about my dad is “he left me broken Phuki, hence the name” she doesn’t say anything further than that, oh let me not mention the name of my siblings, before you think my mother is a complete broken person. But I guess you will know them as my story goes... Welcome to my confused hellish life.
Something finally fell on my lap. My previous principal recommended me to a mining company, the organisation group that owns the mine called the previous day to set up a bursary interview with me, to which I agreed to. If I get it, my fees will be paid to study mining engineering, we agreed on 31st Jan, attire being BLACK AND WHITE. My heart was fuming with praise; God was finally is answering my prayers to be something other than a doctor in life.
It was Wednesday the 31st January when I kissed mommy good bye in the morning, I stepped out of the house and she called me back in “you forgot something” she smiled, out of frustration I said “Ma I am going to be late, What?” she took out a green apple from her pocket and said “this. I kept it for you since yesterday, Phuki you have to eat something”... I rolled my eyes and snatched it laughing and ran out the door to bump into my drunken brother, Ngozi; who spilled almost half of the alcoholic court he had in his hand on my white shirt... story of my life!!!
My brother is indeed trouble, he never, ever does something right. He has two children already, two different mothers. I can’t figure out if he does all these things because he lacks a father figure or he is just attention seeking, all our fathers ran away.. What makes his hurt special? And yes, he too ran away from his children. It looks as though men in this society are really dedicated to hear women perpetually say “me too” from either rape, hurt, verbal abuse or being on the ran to avoid responsibility. Ngozi verbally abuses me every chance he gets, me being my mother’s favourite bothers him. Did I mention that he almost raped me when I was 13? I don’t think I did. But that is a story for another day, all I take from that experience is; a rapist can be your closest family member, a brother, a friend, anyone. Every time I look at Ngozi’s face scar, I remember that uneventful event; my mom stabbed him with a tin opener just to defend me. Ucenter Dress tea length items to wear of the wedding
“This is the only white shirt I have NGOZI!!!!!! They said BLACK AND WHITE!!!! JESUS NGOZI!!!!” I shouted as I tried my level best to wipe the drink off my shirt with my hands, but it looked as if I was getting myself dirtier, from the deepest of my heart I sighed and ran off to taxi stop. I hope the mining company would still consider me even when I am late and smelling of alcohol, thanks Ngozi geeez.....