was all about, she still wasn’t convinced that it was a real job. ‘One day he has to find a real job. But I can see you like him. Let’s think about it.’
A few days later I visited Grandma. This time I brought Mbongeni along, so he could answer some of the questions himself. I knew my grandmother wanted me to be happy. I also knew she had a soft spot for him. A feisty, strong-willed woman who spoke her mind, she could be our champion.
When we got to Grandma’s place, she was happy to see us again. After exchanging a few pleasantries, Mbongeni got to the point and said he wanted to marry me. My grandmother asked him repeatedly, ‘Are you sure you want to do this, my boy? You’re a big star now, and many women will be throwing themselves at you. And many of them would probably be more beautiful than my little girl here. Why, many of them would be rich and influential people who will do anything to draw you to them.’
Mbongeni confirmed that he had thought long and hard about it. Then my grandmother turned to me and interrogated me at length as we sat drinking tea. I also confirmed that I was ready to get married.
She looked intensely at me. Then she said, ‘But you are so young! And what are you bringing into this marriage? You don’t have a job, you’re not educated.’ Before I could blurt out and remind her that I’d graduated from one of the country’s coveted colleges, she steamed ahead. ‘Having a high school education is not enough. You need to go to university. You need a proper education so you can properly support your husband. This business he is in is so unpredictable. I would have been happy for you if he were a teacher, or a clerk at a government department. Those are dignified positions. There’s security in those jobs. Not this sketch-sketch play-play thing of his. I never thought a man could make a living making a fool of himself in front of other people. But the young man here has explained his business properly to me now. I am happy he was honest enough to admit that this business of his is finicky, unpredictable. I believe him when he says he is going to make it work for you and him. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. But you need to have a proper, solid education …’
Mbongeni cleared his throat to indicate he wanted to interrupt my grandmother. She got the message. ‘Go ahead, my boy, what is it you want to say?’
‘Gogo, I want to promise you here and now that the first thing I will do once we get married is take Xoli to university.’ He looked solemnly at me. He could not look my grandmother in the eye. In our culture, to show respect and deference to your elders or social superior, you never look them in the eye. It is considered disrespectful. I know in the Western world you’re supposed to look a person in the eye to prove your honesty, to prove you are not lying, that you have nothing to hide.
My grandmother said, ‘Can you say that again, my boy?’
‘Gogo, I solemnly swear that I will make sure that Xoli goes to university as soon as we’ve tied the matrimonial knot. I never got a chance to finish high school myself, but Xoli will tell you how I feel about education.’
The statement seemed to overwhelm my grandmother. I thought I saw tears in her eyes. But she soon regained her composure. Then she said, ‘I know her parents are not comfortable with this relationship of yours. But if you can tell them what you’ve just said to me, maybe that can sway them.’
‘Yebo, Gogo,’ Mbongeni said. ‘I would like to appeal to Gogo to go and speak to them on my behalf. I stand by my solemn words: I will pay for Xoliswa’s university education from my own pocket. That’s a promise.’
Emboldened by those words, a few days later my grandma travelled from her own house in Wattville all the way to my parents’ house. When she arrived, I met her at the door. Having greeted her, I called my mother and told her Grandma was in the house. I was as nonchalant as possible, pretending as if I didn’t know why she was here. My mother came to the sitting area. They exchanged greetings in our elaborate way, and started drinking tea. At long last, Grandma got to the point.
‘What is this that I hear?’ she started. ‘My little girl Xoli has been a model child. Girls her age are dropping out of school. They are getting pregnant left, right and centre, yet Xoliswa here has not only finished her high school, she is also without a blemish. Her name is clean. I know that she is the pride of this family. What I want to know, then, is why are you standing in her way?’
My mother said, ‘What is makhulu referring to?’
‘You don’t want this girl to be happy, from what I hear.’ She paused dramatically. By that time, my father had joined them in the sitting area. I sat in the bedroom I shared with my sister and listened to the conversation – the beauty of living in a small house where voices carry easily. My grandmother continued, ‘This Ngema young man wants to make your girl a proper and honest woman, but you two are standing in their way.’
The debate got heated, with my parents pointing out that I was too young for him – he was born in June 1955, and I in July 1962. Not much of an age gap, if you think seriously about it, but my parents had to have a weapon to use against him. The fact that he was an actor also did not do him a favour with my parents, who were career oriented.
‘That man does not have a job, as far as I am concerned,’ said my mother.
‘Have you seen his picture in the newspapers?’ countered my grandmother.
‘My child is not going to eat newspaper pictures of that man,’ my father came in.
‘Not only is he famous, he is on his way to being rich,’ my grandmother argued. ‘You see, not everyone should be a teacher, a lawyer, a government clerk. There are other ways of making a living. One day this young man is going to appear on TV!’
My mother retorted, ‘But still, these play-play things on the stage and on TV do not guarantee you a solid future.’
‘And what about her education?’ my father pointed out. ‘She is still young. She needs to go to university so she can have a solid future for herself and her future family.’
My grandmother cleared her throat dramatically. I could picture her sitting back in the sofa, smiling triumphantly as she said, ‘Now this Ngema young man is going to take care of that. He is going to pay for Xoliswa’s university education.’
‘But, Mama, how would you know that? Can he afford that?’
‘Don’t underestimate this young man. This play of his is going overseas. Everything is confirmed. That’s why he wants to get started with lobola negotiations, so that by the time he shakes those people overseas he will have Xoliswa by his side. That’s what he told me!’
‘He told you?’ my parents cried in unison.
‘Yes, he came to my house. We spoke at length about this.’ There was a triumphant tone to her voice. ‘He is going to pay for Xoliswa’s university. I quizzed him numerous times on that particular aspect during our talk. He told me not once, not twice, but three times that the first thing he would do after they got married would be to take Xoliswa to university. From his own pocket!’
Over the next few days, my parents finally acquiesced and accepted Mbongeni’s proposal. In due course, lobola negotiations started. Things were happening fast, too fast. I was about to be someone’s wife; I was about to go to university; the person I so much loved and respected had suddenly became a celebrity.
Every waking moment I had to keep pinching myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I had to take things easy. I had to think, seriously think, about what I was getting myself into.
Although
