A sequel to The Beloved MaShenge
The man didn’t give us any instructions. He said everything is up to me and asked that we step out and allow more serious seekers to come in.
“I'm not sure who you are anymore,” Mbuso says.
I was hoping that we'd drive home in peace. I need time to process everything the man has just told me.
“Not now Shenge. Don't put me on the stand now. I need to do what I'm supposed to do before things get out of control,” I say.
“Her catching a random bullet, was it because of your darkness?” He's staring at me.
Talk about kicking the dog when it's already down!
“I don't know,” I say.
“You don't know, Sabatha? Everything has consequences. You go around killing people and fucking new widows and you think it won't affect you? Then you associate yourself with that innocent girl and rub everything onto her? Now you don't know how we do things in our culture? A piece of paper from UniZulu has made you forget who you are and how you should carry yourself? Huh?”
I'm not having this conversation now. I understand that he's disappointed and angry. But we are on the road for fuck’ sake, there's time and place for everything.
He starts and switches off the engine. He's not done lashing out on me.
“Whose blood is in your hands?”
“Samkelo Myeni. I killed him, he didn't fall off the stairs,” I say.