is what happened to your great-grandfather. A heart attack killed him one month into his sentence. Death from a broken heart is what happened to Mama one week after Baba died. In just one month and one week after being forced out of Cato Manor, my brother and I became orphans. My brother left for Johannesburg … and disappeared.’
They have parked for a while outside the Community Hall where most of Gogo’s friends collect their pension.
‘I was all alone,’ says Gogo.
She goes quiet. A few minutes pass while she stares into a void.
Aphiwe doesn’t know what to say. What a sad history. No wonder her grandmother never speaks of it.
Inside the hall Gogo introduces Aphiwe to her friends. They all address Gogo as ‘Princess’, although Aphiwe knows her real name is Thembeka.
‘We call her Princess because she comes from royalty,’ one of the friends reveals. ‘She is the daughter of Mkhululi Ntuli, the same Ntulis who once ruled over what is most of Cato Manor.’
Gogo looks happy as she talks to her friends. She trudges on, with her walking stick, to each of the many groups of elders in the hall. Aphiwe finds herself surrounded by a group of grandmothers. Gogo passes her as she goes to talk to another group of her friends.
‘She is going to braid a client in Cato Manor,’ Gogo says and points to Aphiwe. ‘Ladies, can you tell her about our days in Cato Manor? Tell her about our Mkhumbane.’
These grandmothers around Aphiwe grow animated. They take turns telling Aphiwe about the old days in Cato Manor.
‘The beauty pageants! And the regional finals at Durban City Hall.’
‘Stage plays and talent shows. Those evenings of music and dance!’
‘And the high rollers who wanted the jewel of Cato Manor, your grandmother, Princess Ntuli.’
‘But the only one who captured her heart was the quiet Reggie Perumal.’
‘That handsome devil!’
The group of grannies chuckle.
‘When they finally got together, they were the talk of Cato Manor.’
‘They looked good together!’
‘Shush ladies, don’t be corrupting this innocent young woman with love stories.’
They burst out laughing.
On the way home, Aphiwe looks at her grandmother dozing off a little in the passenger seat while they are stuck in afternoon traffic.
‘Gogo, who is Reggie Perumal?’ she asks, when her grandmother wakes.
‘I told you, he was one of my friends. Him and his sister Santhisha.’
‘Your friends told me he was more than a friend.’
‘Those old goats don’t know when to shut their mouths,’ says Gogo jokingly. A radiant smile spreads over her face as she says this.
‘He was more than a friend!’ Aphiwe realises and laughs. ‘We must find him, Gogo. Of all your old friends, at least you must find your old boyfriend.’
‘No, Aphi, I don’t think so,’ Gogo says. ‘Leave it alone.’
When Aphiwe glances at her, she sees that her grandmother is sad.
She doesn’t pester Gogo with questions for the remainder of the drive back home. She lets her reminisce about Reggie Perumal in silence. They buy take-away food at the shopping mall in Amanzimtoti, and head home. They eat, and Gogo takes her medication. The trip has taken its toll – she needs help getting from the lounge to her bedroom for her afternoon nap.
‘What happened to Reggie Perumal, Gogo?’ asks Aphiwe, as she tucks her into bed.
‘I honestly do not know.’
‘How come you never looked for him?’
‘How come he never looked for me?’ Gogo talks softly, as she does when the pills start to work.
Aphiwe has no answer.
‘I looked for him, Aphi,’ she says. ‘I looked for him in crowds, in the city. When I walked past a restaurant. Sometimes I’d go and just sit at bus ranks to Indian townships, hoping I’d see him.
‘When I did find him, it was only in my dreams. With time I believed he may have relocated to another province, found a good Indian girl and got married. The mixing of races was prohibited and strictly enforced after the Group Areas Act and the Immorality Act. Even if I’d found him, what would have happened to us?’
‘I understand, Gogo … Get some rest.’
While her grandmother is taking a nap, Aphiwe tells her mother the story of Gogo and Reggie Perumal.
‘I’ve never heard this history before,’ Ma marvels. ‘Perhaps there are some things she wants to get off her chest in her final years …’ Suddenly the expression on Ma’s face turns to shock. ‘You know, I was born only a few months after the forced removals. Gogo has always told me that my father simply disappeared. What if this Reggie … What if he’s my father?’
‘What?’ Aphiwe is confused. ‘How would that be possible? He’s Indian and we’re black.’
‘I’ve always wondered about our straight hair,’ Ma muses. ‘But I thought it might be a remnant from a past generation,’ she says. ‘These things happened, you know. For instance, there might have been a great-great-grandmother who was Coloured. But now I wonder if my hair can’t be traced back directly to my own father.’ The possibility seems to overwhelm her, and she sinks down on a couch.
Aphiwe and her mother look at their reflections in the mirror in the lounge. They run their hands through their silky hair. Their fingers run over their bushy eyebrows, then touch the dark-brown skin of their cheeks.
‘My mother said my father disappeared before I was born. Does this mean it was Reggie Perumal? She never wanted to say anything more about him, not even his name, so I don’t know for sure,’ Ma ponders aloud. ‘I always thought he abandoned us.’
‘I suppose it could be someone she met after they were removed …’ Aphiwe suggest half-heartedly.
Ma jumps up. ‘I need to know the truth.’
They go into Gogo’s room and gently wake her. ‘Mama, is Reggie Perumal my father?’ Aphiwe’s mother asks in a hushed voice.
Gogo looks at them both with sad eyes. Then she nods. ‘Yes, he is your father.’
Ma takes a deep breath. ‘Did he know he had a daughter?’
‘He didn’t know I was pregnant when the forced removals happened. Neither did I, actually. It was only a month later that I realised. My parents also died not knowing.’ She shakes her head.
‘But you should have told me about him, Ma. I deserved to know.’
