FOURTEEN: The world will never be short of beautiful women

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‘Kangwa!!’

Gershom’s voice forced her to abandon the laundry. For the past few minutes he had been calling her and she had been ignoring him, focusing instead on the washing as a way of keeping herself out of his orbit.

‘What is it?’

‘We have been here a while now…’

‘Two hours, ten minutes and twenty seconds.’

‘Well, is the food not ready yet?’

Kangwa chuckled. ‘Do not tell me you were waiting for me to cook for you.’

He stared at her. All this time he had heard the clattering of pots from the kitchen and assumed she was preparing food for them. The aroma still hung in the air, making his stomach turn against him. ‘If not you then who?’

‘I am quite busy at the moment. But I am sure your friend knows where the kitchen is. Even a slay queen has to eat at some point. Every woman knows her way around a kitchen, so mama, kindly get off your slay queen throne and go prepare your husband some food.’

Gershom looked up from his phone and threw her a warning glare.

‘What? Is she not the one desperate to butter up to this family? Well then, the kitchen is right there. She will find everything she needs.’

In truth, Kangwa had been in the middle of preparing lunch when Gershom arrived. She had put a deliberate stop to the preparations. The pot of beef stew sat half done on the stove. The vegetables were still unwashed in the sink. The money for the tomatoes was still in the back pocket of her jeans. She had already texted Theo about the situation. Theo would make a plan before bringing the family home.

Yolanda, who found her phone considerably more interesting than standing over hot pots, told Gershom she was not hungry.

Kangwa walked out muttering under her breath. Once the laundry was hung, she returned to the kitchen and channelled her irritation into something useful. She began working on the fillings for the half-moons, pies, and samosas to be delivered to Feggy’s clients later that evening.

Gershom, however, had reached the end of his patience with his hunger. He had eaten nothing since morning, having been on a call with a client all through breakfast, and by the time it ended there was only enough time to get to the photoshoot at the studio.

He got up and went to the kitchen. Kangwa was deep-frying onion rings. The smell hit him the moment he walked in and his stomach made its feelings known. Kangwa glanced at him briefly, then turned back to the pan.

He wanted to ask for a plate. He knew she would refuse out of spite. Acting unbothered, he went to the fridge and looked for leftovers.

A bowl of rice and meatballs was all he found. He warmed it, poured two glasses of juice, and carried everything to the sitting room.

Even though Yolanda had said she was not hungry, she worked through almost the entire bowl while Gershom, who managed barely two mouthfuls, was left with his glass of juice.

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An hour later, Theo drove the family home. On seeing the sleek car parked outside the yard — the one Gershom had gifted Yolanda after the birth of their daughter — the elderly couple exchanged a look and understood immediately why Theo had suggested lunch out.

‘Ma, can I borrow my sister and the kids for the afternoon? I promise to bring them back safe.’

Feggy glanced towards the car parked in front of the house, then looked away. She was done allowing the two of them to take her peace. That was finished.

Mrs. Chomba sighed. She was fairly certain that if she ever had reason to miss heaven, it would be because of her son and his choices. ‘I am sorry, dear. I did not know he was coming.’

‘There is nothing to be sorry about, Ma. Go inside. We were already planning to go to the plot later anyway.’

The elderly couple went in. Kangwa came out and, with the children’s help, carried the groceries inside.

When Gershom heard the children’s voices in the kitchen he was tempted to call out to them. One look from Yolanda made him think again. He went back to his phone while their laughter grew louder.

As soon as the groceries were put away, Kangwa handed the children bowls of onion rings and quickly ushered them outside. The last thing she wanted was for them to walk into the sitting room and be met with their father’s indifference.

‘How is the building coming along?’ Mr. Chomba asked as the children came out with Kangwa.

Feggy told him the construction had reached window level and promised to bring pictures. The sisters waited for the elderly couple to go inside, then got back in the car. They drove to Theo’s place, helped the children change out of their Sunday clothes into something comfortable, then headed to the plot.

The two sisters had pooled their money and bought a piece of land on the outskirts of the city.

As soon as Theo parked outside the boundary, the children jumped out and ran to find their friends in the neighbouring plot.

‘You knew, did you not?’

‘Kangwa texted me while we were still in church. Are you okay?’

Feggy smiled and said she was. She had long stopped caring what Gershom did. But the afternoon had made one thing clearer to her — it was time to think about moving out of her in-laws’ home. Theo agreed, though she was certain the Chombas would not take it well.

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‘What are you doing here, Gershom?’

Mrs. Chomba’s voice was flat as she walked through the door.

The question was beginning to wear on him. He had convinced himself that his parents’ anger had run its course by now. He wanted to say so, but he still needed to bring them around to accepting Yolanda and the baby, so he swallowed it.

‘Ma, you are home. We have been waiting a while. I tried calling but you did not pick up.’

‘I have not picked up your calls in a long while, Gershom. What do you want? And what is that woman doing in my house?’

‘Ma, please. There is no need to get upset. We brought Karen-Irene to meet her grandparents.’

Neither of his parents looked towards the baby. He stood up, walked over to his mother, and placed the infant in her arms. ‘Ma, is she not beautiful? I think she takes after you.’

The pride in his voice was unmistakable. A stranger walking in at that moment would have had no reason not to believe this man was the best father in the world.

Mrs. Irene looked down at the tiny bundle. Despite every resolve she had made, she found herself smiling. The baby’s face, so still and so innocent in sleep, reached right past all of it. ‘She is a carbon copy of her mother.’

‘Let us hope she did not inherit the rest of her mother’s qualities,’ Kangwa said from the doorway, and walked away before Gershom could respond.

He turned to his mother instead. ‘She is being disrespectful, Ma. This is the last time I will tolerate it.’

‘You have not given her reason to behave otherwise.’

‘Ma, surely you cannot be comfortable with how she speaks.’

Mrs. Irene was not pleased with her daughter’s words either. But she understood exactly where they came from. It pained her to accept that as long as Yolanda was part of her son’s life, peace in this family would never fully return. The unremorseful attitude of them both made it worse. She looked down at the baby again. That face eased something in her. ‘She is a beautiful child. As beautiful as the morning star.’ She paused. ‘I think I prefer Luthanda to Karen-Irene.’

As if the baby could sense something had shifted, she blinked and opened her eyes. A pair of bright dark-brown eyes found Mrs. Irene’s face. A toothless grin followed. When Mrs. Irene brushed her finger against the baby’s tiny hand, the infant grasped her pinky and settled comfortably into the crook of her arm.

‘I like it too, Ma,’ Gershom said.

‘It is a beautiful name, Mother. It will bring her such joy to know her grandmother named her,’ Yolanda added.

‘It has been a long day,’ Mrs. Irene said, at the tail end of Yolanda’s sentence. She stood, returned the baby to Gershom’s arms, and went to her bedroom. She did not come out again.

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An hour of strained silence followed. Gershom tried to fill it with conversation. His father replied in single words, more interested in the farming documentary on the television. At some point, Mr. Chomba reached over and took the baby and played with her quietly.

Yolanda spent the hour on her phone.

A call from the wedding planner ended the visit. Gershom wanted to wake his mother to say goodbye but his father would not hear of it.

‘Before you go, a word.’ Mr. Chomba stood. Gershom nodded and asked Yolanda to wait for him at the car.

Before she left, cradling Luthanda close, Yolanda told Mr. Chomba that her greatest wish was to see him and the family at the wedding.

Mr. Chomba looked at his granddaughter with warmth and tenderness. ‘Take care of baby Luthanda.’ Then the same eyes shifted to Yolanda and the warmth left them entirely. ‘Next time you wish to visit, please call ahead. You cannot come and go as you please. Feggy and the children live here. I want their stay to be comfortable and free of unnecessary tension.’

Yolanda nodded and walked out. Inside she was seething. Outside she said nothing.

‘Pa, it was not Yolanda’s fault. I was the one who insisted on coming.’

‘Are you happy, Gershom?’

‘Of course, Pa. She is the love of my life.’

His father chuckled softly. He remembered hearing those exact words the day his son had married Feggy. ‘That is good to hear. From the bottom of my heart, I hope this lasts until one of you draws your last breath.’

‘Pa?’

‘What is it about her that made you willing to walk away from Feggy, and from the family you built together?’

‘I fell out of love with her, Pa. It is as simple as that. The right one came along after I was already committed to someone else. Letting Feggy go was the kinder thing to do. It would have been crueller to keep her in a marriage where my heart was no longer present.’

Mr. Chomba regarded his son for a long moment.

‘This world is not short of beautiful women, my son. Every other minute, somewhere in the world, a beautiful girl is born. But as long as a man cannot be content with the love of one woman, he will end up wanting to marry the whole world.’ He paused. ‘Physical beauty fades. What happens ten years from now when you wake up and she is not quite as you remember? What happens when you meet someone younger and more striking than Yolanda? Will you do to her what you did to Feggy?’

He doubted whether his son had ever truly understood what he had promised at the altar, and he doubted whether saying those words a second time would make him keep them any better. It saddened him. At thirty-five, his son was choosing a life partner the way a young man buys a car.

Mr. Chomba believed firmly that when a man chose his woman, she should remain the most beautiful girl in the world to him until death. Through all of it — the changes that life and age and children bring to a body. Because infatuation with appearance only lasts so long. When the looks go, what remains is character. Soul. Virtue. He wanted to say all of this. But he held his tongue. If experience had not yet taught his son this, then time would deliver the lesson far more effectively than he could.

‘I love Yolanda, Pa. This is not only about how she looks. Feggy was a mistake. I rushed into that marriage. I should have taken more time. Yolanda is my soulmate. With time, as we grow and as our family grows, you will all come to see that she was meant for me. We are meant for each other.’

Mr. Chomba walked over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. ‘Well. If you are truly convinced she is the one, then there is nothing left for me to say except congratulations, and to wish you well in your upcoming marriage. Because you are going to need it. Take care of your daughter. She may just be the only good thing to come out of all of this.’

Gershom left shortly after.

Mr. Chomba stood in the doorway and watched him go, his heart heavy.

He did hope things would work out between them. Not for Gershom’s sake, and not for Yolanda’s. He hoped it for Luthanda, who had arrived into the middle of all this without a say. If they failed, she would be the one to carry the cost. Just like Joseph, Sandra, and Bertha before her — another child added quietly to the long list of those raised in the rubble of their parents’ choices.

All of Gershom’s words and assurances tonight had been just that. Words. Easily made. Easily broken.

He had heard them all before.

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© Ponda

VOCAB

Luthanda — a name of Nguni origin meaning “love” or “the one who loves”

Slay queen — colloquial term for a young woman who presents a lavish lifestyle on social media, often funded by older wealthy partners