It’s no longer safe for them around here and at school because of the death of your cat.”
“So what are you going to do, take them out of the school?”
Sandra picked up her cup and took another sip. Lulama could feel her neighbour’s eyes resting on her face, watching her over the rim of the cup. Sandra put the cup down gently in its saucer.
“Hell no, I’m not going to do that. I heard that the headmaster was suggesting that I take my children to a township school. That is the reason I’m here anyway. I also heard that the governing body has unanimously ruled that my kids be expelled and sent to a ‘special’ school because they are allegedly not normal. Did you have anything to do with that, Sandra?”
Sandra shook her head slowly and closed her lips tightly. Her eyelids fluttered. Lulama was looking at her intently. Sandra was pale. Her face, which used to be so free of cares, was now stamped with conflict and despair. She was indeed distraught over the death of the cat. For a few seconds Lulama remembered how the bubbly Sandra used to love combing, patting, hugging and kissing her Bonaparte. Now she had some spots on the side of her face. She looks profoundly depressed, like me, Lulama thought. Sandra’s eyes glittered with impatience for Lulama to leave her house.
“That’s all I wanted to know. Thank you,” she said, and left.
Ousie Maria had become sick. She and Mohapi believed that it was all because of the cat and its omen of bad things to come. Without consulting Lulama, they decided that the house would not be safe unless the traditional healer was called upon for cleansing.
The following day, when Lulama went to work at her boutique in Clearwater Mall, Ousie Maria and Mohapi went to fetch Gogo Mpiyakhe, from Zola, in Soweto, to come and heal her sickness, and also to cleanse the house of bad luck.
It was Gogo Mpiyakhe who had helped Ousie Maria to find a job within three days of leaving Swaziland to come to South Africa. Back then, Ousie Maria didn’t know anyone in the country. Gogo Mpiyakhe had given her some amazing medicine. It was the brain of a vulture that had been dried and powdered and then mixed with powdered herbs such as peeled serokgwe root. This, according to Gogo Mpiyakhe, produced good luck and good dreams. Gogo Mpiyakhe told her that vultures hunting for their food are regarded as good dreamers. They are also considered lucky birds. Soon after taking the medicine, Ousie Maria landed her job with the Phalas, and she has believed in the powers of Gogo Mpiyakhe ever since.
“She’s a great medicine person. What she does not know about African medicine is really not worth knowing about,” Ousie Maria said with deep conviction during the car ride to Soweto. “Everything will go back to normal, you’ll see.”
“I trust you,” Mohapi said.
Gogo Mpiyakhe lived in a typical four-roomed Soweto house with an outside toilet. There was a small thatched hut, an indumba, at the corner next to the toilet. This was where she conducted her consultations with clients. She welcomed her visitors with a smile. Her forehead shone with sweat, and she was barefoot. When she walked, she bent slightly forward, as if her back pained her. A few bracelets, mostly white and red, jangled on her wrists and ankles as she walked. Lots of red and white beaded necklaces adorned her long neck. Her two large round earrings looked like bottle caps. She wore a dress in red, black and white. Mohapi and Ousie Maria had to remove their shoes before entering the indumba. Inside, they were engulfed by a powerful smell of traditional medicines. “Gogo Mpiyakhe,” Ousie Maria began, “we need your help.” And she proceeded to explain the Phalas’ predicament.
Gogo Mpiyakhe listened carefully and then agreed to come to the Phalas’ home. Back at the house in Forest Town, she gave Mohapi some dried monepenepe. They burnt the long cylindrical pods by the swimming pool in order to chase the evil spirit.
“The evil spirit has entered the household through the swimming pool water where the cat drowned. The water must be drained while all the family members inhale the smoke of the monepenepe,” Gogo Mpiyakhe explained.
She also gave both Ousie Maria and Mohapi a sekgopha. Ousie Maria knew that crushed Aloe castanea is used to treat both high blood pressure and chase evil spirits and bad dreams at night. They were instructed to mix it with the roots of mulibatsha.
“When burnt, the smoke smells very strong so as to chase bad spirits,” Gogo Mpiyakhe said.
When Lulama came home that evening she found that her husband’s usual smooth charm had gone. He seemed agitated. There was a strange burnt smell in the air. The doors had been opened as if to let out the smell. What was he hiding? Angrily, Lulama removed her jacket and dumped it over the sofa.
“What is this smell now?”
Mohapi squared his shoulders. “We have decided to consult a healer, and all of us have to use sekgopha.”
“What do you mean we decided to consult?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Ousie Maria took me to a healer today.” He enunciated the name Ousie as if learning a new word.
“Since when is she making important decisions in this house with you and without me? She works for us, not the other way round.”
Her tone conveyed her irritation. She waited patiently, looking casually around the dining room the way partners do when they have an argument in front of the children.
Mohapi snorted.
“Go and call your Ousie Maria,” she commanded.
“You have to work with me on this matter.”
She deliberately watched his mouth as he talked. Rivulets of sweat were trickling down his face. “I made the decision as the man of the house, and it’s final.”
“Is that so?” she said, mocking him. “Let me teach you a thing about what the man of the house should do. He must take the final decision with his wife rather than listening to an illiterate domestic worker. There’s a letter from school that says your children are not doing well. It is from their three teachers. That’s what you should be attending to instead of burning muthi inside our house. The headmaster will soon find an excuse to suspend them. I was forced to sign a warning today when you were busy consulting a sangoma.” She spoke slowly, and gesticulated before every word.
Lulama’s retort seemed to have stung Mohapi. When he didn’t say a word, she walked out of the house to Ousie Maria’s cottage. Without wiping her feet on the mat as usual, she tried the door, ready to stomp in. Locked. Lulama had noticed that, ever since the cat died, Ousie Maria was afraid to be alone in an unlocked room. Every sound gave her a fright. She became afraid of the darkness and never turned the lights off. It was as if she was afraid that something bad might happen to her in the split second of darkness.
Lulama paused, listening before knocking. She felt a sudden unconcealed dislike for Ousie Maria. After a third knock, the door opened. Ousie Maria looked at Lulama intently.
“I came to understand what gave you the right to take my husband to your sangoma without telling me. What’s going on here between you two?”
“I was only trying to help,” said Ousie Maria. “I thought he would tell you. Well, I didn’t offer him instructions on what to do. I was merely giving him advice. He was free not to take it at all.”
“We brought you here to help with the cleaning and washing. Not to plan my family behind my back.”
“How
