This, I Forbid

“Your biggest competition in business is your own self-doubt.”

That, was Matla Moeketsi’s motto and he had lived by it since the tender age of twelve, when he had to drop out of school to take over his ailing mother’s vegetable stand at the taxi rank. He woke up every morning with one main goal: to make sure he never repeated a mistake. That way, he believed he would continually grow wiser and continue getting better at his job and, regardless of how well his competitors were doing, he would always be able to support his family through the income generated by his taxis.

“He’s done it again,” he roared, his voice enfolded in frustration.

His phone, which he had just been on, suffered the fate of a few cracks as he slammed it onto the table. 

“Careful!” His wife, Charlene, cried out.

The plates shook as his arm landed and some of the food spilled onto the table which, was set for three — him, his wife and their youngest daughter, Lerato. His wife grabbed a dishcloth and wiped food off the empty place-setting, which had been waiting for Lerato since they sat to eat breakfast thirty minutes ago.

“Stay calm, Baba,” she softly said, “you know that stress is bad for your heart.”

“How? When Mzwandile insists on testing me like this?” Matla responded, his frustration now focused on the piece of bacon he was cutting. 

The table shook, once more,  as Matla wrestled the piece with a fork and knife. His wife chuckled as she watched him struggle.

“Are you going to tell me what happened or should I just keep letting that poor piece suffer?” She asked, the hint of a smile still lingering on her face.

“This is nothing to smile about!” Matla said with all the seriousness he could muster.

He was fully aware of how ridiculous he looked; a grown man allowing rage to control him so much that he was causing earthquakes at the breakfast table.

His wife broke into laughter and it instantly made him soften.

“Ace just told me that the Mkhuhlu’s are parking in our spot again.”

“Again? Why does Mzwandile insist on pushing your buttons like this?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“You guys are always at each other’s throats, hey! It’s hard to even imagine what you might have been like as friends!”

“That’s because it wasn’t a real friendship,” he gobbled the piece up, “he was always just a snake in the grass.”

At that moment, their daughter finally walked into the kitchen. Her overalls, covered in smudges of paint.

“Incredible!” Charlene said, disapprovingly.

“I know, I know ma!” Lerato responded, quickly hushing her mother, “Trust me, I’ll change. I just had a piece I quickly needed to finish before heading to work.”

“You’re gonna be late!”

“I’ll just grab an apple!”

“An apple? After I spent all that time making this spread?” her mom said, pointing to her place setting, “sit.”

Hesitantly, she sat and started dishing food up for herself.

“That plot was nothing but a dumpsite and a lavatory for people who don’t respect themselves before me and my boys cleaned it up!” Matla suddenly yelled.

He was so consumed by his thoughts that he barely noticed Lerato walk in.

“Let me guess,” Lerato whispered to her mother, “someone stole his space.”

“Even worse,” Charlene responded, “the Mkuhlu’s did it.”

Lerato rolled her eyes, “Oh my, we’ll have to listen to this rant for a looooooooong time.”

“Not on my watch!” Her mom responded before flipping her wrist, “is that the time?”

“What time is it?” Matla asked, unaware of what his wife was doing.

“Time to go!” She responded,  making sure to wink at Lerato before hurriedly getting up to clear the table.

Lerato sat, carefully eating as her parents packed up the rest of the things they needed. She watched them walk out the door and as soon as it was closed, she sat still and listened intently. 

She even stopped chewing, as if that would make her hear better.

“Rato?” A voice whispered from her room.

Lerato aggressively hushed it in response, quickly rising from her feet to peep outside.

“They’re gone,” the voice said, more boldly now.

It belonged to Loyiso Mkuhlu, the son of her father’s sworn enemy who, unbeknownst to their parents, was also dating Lerato.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, searching deep into Lerato’s eyes.

“I am,” Lerato assured him, “do you?”

“I’ll do anything to keep you happy, lerato laka,” Loyiso responded, taking her into his embrace.

The morning hadn’t been quite as eventful as Matla had thought it would be when he finally arrived at the rank. The Mkuhlu fleet had moved their taxis so, even though he was extremely infuriated when he arrived, he had absolutely no reason to yell — which angered him even more. He had accepted that he was probably going to have a bad day till he received a call from his wife.

“Just what I needed!” He said, picking up the call.

What he didn’t expect, was that he’d be speeding home, his heart racing as his mind tries not to think of the worst possible scenario, the moment that call ended. The car had barely even stopped when he got off and ran towards the gate.

“Lerato!” He shouted, reaching for the gate.

“She’s gone,” a neighbour shouted back.

He was reading a newspaper outside, under the shade of his veranda, clearly enjoying a carefree day.

“My wife received a call from her Supervisor. She never arrived.”

“She left a while ago, with Mzwandile’s boy!” He continued, eager to lessen the clear concern on Matla’s face.

“So you’re telling me that a Mkuhlu was in my house?!” Matla asked, “ MY house?!”

The neighbours already knew about the feud and knew not get involved so, he just shook his head and immediately went back to reading his paper.

Matla got back into his car, enraged. A million thoughts raced into his mind before he decided that he was just going to go to the police station.

“This is kidnapping!” He told the officer who was taking his statement.

“Stay calm,” the officer responded, “ how long did you say she’s been gone for?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Matla exploded.

“That won’t help!” His wife said, suddenly appearing by his side.

He had called her on the way over but didn’t expect for her to get there so soon. He also hadn’t expected for her to walk in with the company she was with.

“What is he doing here?” He yelled as soon as his eyes landed on Mzwandile, who was also walking in, his own wife by his side.

“I called them,” Matla’s wife’s quickly declared, “there’s something you two don’t know.”

There was a tense pause as both men wracked their brains to figure out what she meant by that.

“They’re dating,”Mzwandile’s wife, Nosisa, chimed in.

“Who?” Matla asked.

“The kids!” Both wives annoyedly shouted at the same time.

The shock shot through their husbands like a bullet in a pistol. Matla would’ve dropped to the ground if his wife wasn’t there to offer quick support and Mzwandile was suddenly overcome by thirst.

“We’re going to have to work together if we want to find them,” Nosisa said, as soon as both men had calmed down.

“Together? When I can’t even be sure that you don’t have my baby tied up in some dirty warehouse somewhere!?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mzwandile asked back, choosing that moment to cross his arms.

“You know exactly what it means, Snake!” Matla yelled, “all you ever do is take!”

“This is not about business, Matla!”

“So you admit that you’re a snake in that regard?”

At that, Mzwandile unfolded his arms and clenched his fists.

“How is this helping?” Charlene asked, “the kids are missing and we still don’t know where they are!”

“I won’t stand here and wait for this snake to spit venom in my eyes,” Matla declared before angrily storming away. Charlene turned to look at Nosisa and they shared a shrug. 

This is the part where people with normal relationships usually hug but they knew that nothing was normal about their friendship.

“I can’t believe that Matla would even imply that!” Mzwandile said as soon as Matla’s wife was gone.

“Can you blame him?” His wife shot back.

The comment unsettled Mzwandile, who was sure his wife would be on his side.

“If this was just about business… — ” 

“It’s never just about business!” His wife yelled, “when are you ever going to get that?”

Mzwandile was still too stunned to say anything.

“Every time you steal their customers or their spot at the rank or go around talking about how you’re better at this than he is, all you do is show him that he was stupid for ever trusting you and honestly, it makes me question why I still do!”

“You can’t mean that!” Mzwandile finally said, rising to his feet.

His wife didn’t even bother to respond, she just shook her head and left.

That day’s sunset was the most beautiful one Lerato had ever seen. She couldn’t peel her eyes away from it, not even for a second. She might’ve stared at the sky till nightfall if Lonwabo hadn’t come back into the car with the food he had left to go buy.

“Did they have nuggets?” She asked, rummaging through the contents of the bags.

“Yeah,” Lonwabo shut the door, “I also got the dip you like.”

“This is exactly how everyday should feel,”  Lerato said, gleefully ripping the seal off the dip.

“I’m not exactly sure I agree,” Lonwabo responded.

“What do you mean?”

Lonwabo shoved his food aside and turned to look at her. She didn’t know what he was thinking but she knew she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself today… —”

“There better not be a ‘but’ in that sentence!” Lerato quickly protested.

“But,” Lonwabo continued, taking a hold of her hand, “I don’t think you should keep lying to your parents.”

She pulled her hand away, tears starting to well up in her eyes, “You agreed to help me!”

“Not because I was actually agreeing,” he said, “ you know I would do anything to make you happy.”

Lerato rolled her eyes.

“I don’t think you understand,” she bowed her head.

“I don’t want to act like I do,” he said, softly lifting her chin with his hands.

The light was hitting her eyes at an angle that sort of made them sparkle. Even in this moment that he was pleading for more honesty from her, she was nothing but the image of blameless innocence in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, shyly looking away.

“Like what?” He said, turning her head to look back at him.

“Like I could never do no wrong in your eyes,” she responded, her eyes searching his for affirmation.

“You could,” he planted a soft kiss on her lips, “you could do all the bad things and it wouldn’t change my love for you.”

Lerato melted as their lips intertwined into a deeper kiss. Her heart raced, toes curled as she felt his touch on her spine. Her hands yearned to rip the clothes off his back.

“Rato!” A voice shouted from outside, tearing them away from the kiss.

They hadn’t even traced the source of the distress before the driver door suddenly swung open and Luthando was violently ripped out of the car.

“You son of a bitch!” Matla exclaimed before landing a shiner on Lonwabo’s eye.

It took Mzwandile a few seconds to catch up to Matla and break the scuffle up though, it wasn’t much of a scuffle. Matla had landed a few blows and Lonwabo was just trying to get away.

“Leave my baby alone!” Lonwabo’s mom shouted from a distance.

Her and Charlene were standing beside their cars, watching from a distance as the men “handled” all the confusion. Those had been the instructions they received.

“Why do we always listen to them, Charlene?” Nosisa asked with tears welling in her eyes.

“I, honestly, was about to ask the same thing!”

Lerato was still frozen in the passenger seat when the sound of her father slamming Lonwabo on the hood brought her to her senses. She hesitantly hopped out.

“Hey!” Mzwandile screamed, breaking them apart once again.

“You can’t handle the fact that your little whore is easy and now you’re taking it out on my son!”

With his body starting to ache from having to stomach all the blows, Lonwabo turned to punch his own father.

“Don’t talk about Lerato like that!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His father responded, clutching his nose to keep it from bleeding.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t —…”

His father smacked him back, with the kind of smack that makes your ears ring.

“STOP!” Lerato cried out.

“No, Lerato!” Her father yelled, “YOU stop!”

Lerato was frozen in fear once more. She had never seen her father this angry and didn’t know how to calm him.

“Is this where you’ve been all day?” Her father continued, “while me and your mother worry, you enjoy casual drives and kiss boys in alleyways… is this how you were raised?”

“No… I, I was gonna… I…” Lerato stuttered.

“It’s okay babe. Just tell him the truth,” Luthando chimed in.

“Babe?” Matla repeated, rage clearly ripping through him.

He stepped towards Luthando, his hands itching to bring him more pain but Mzwandile stepped in between them. His face covered in an expression that forced Matla to step back and redirect his energy towards knitting a speech together.

“I don’t know what relationship you think you have with my daughter or even how far it’s gotten—…”
“I’m not that kind of guy,” Luthando interrupted.

“Good. But, this is as far as it’s ever going to get,” Matla declared.

He turned to look at Lerato who now had a clear stream of tears flowing down her face.

“I allow many things, my child,” he said, his voice veiled in exhaustion, “ the parties, staying out late. Heck, I even allow you to sleepover at your loose friend’s place!”

“Matla!” His wife interjected, still from a distance.

“Three times!” Matla continued, “I’ve allowed you to drop out three whole times because I’m all about allowing you to be your own person but, this?”

There was a brief, tense pause.

“This, I forbid!” He concluded.

“I know I haven’t said this in years but, I agree with Matla,” Mzwandile said, much to everyone’s shock.

“Baba, you don’t understand!” Luthando protested.

“Haven’t you heard everything this man said?” His dad responded, “the parties? Dropping out? Loose friends? Is that the kind of woman you want to be with?”

“Watch it Mzwa,” Matla interjected.

“Hey man, I‘m just quoting what you said!” Mzwandile shrugged.

“I heard every word and it all means nothing to me because I know who Lerato is,” Luthando said with so much assurance that Lerato started wiping off her tears.

“Are you trying to say that I don’t know my own daughter?”

“You’re not God, Mr. Moeketsi.”

“Excuse me?”

“Watch it boy,” Mzwandile warned, his finger now wagging in his son’s face, “you’re still talking to your elders.”

“Elders” hit Luthando’s ear in a way that almost made him chuckle. The way they had acted wasn’t how he’d want people he considered to be elders to act. He wanted to call them out and call them all sorts of names but instead, he breathed in, clenched his jaw and began to speak:

“What I mean, Baba is that he cannot know what he’s not there to witness.”

He turned his gaze towards Lerato who was now shaking from fear.

“You look at Lerato and only see her mistakes and, I don’t blame you because it’s all she allows you to see. But, she’s more than anything she might’ve done to disappoint you; more than her mistakes.”

“Baba,” Lerato finally joined in, “I’m really sorry.”

She started crying again. Her father rushed to console her.

“It’s okay, my angel,” he said wrapping his arms around her, “I can talk to your supervisor, I’m sure they can forgive the fact that you didn’t show up. I mean, it was only your first day.”

“That’s the thing, Baba,” she said, pulling away from the embrace, “I don’t want to go back there.”

“Lerato…” her father said, struggling to hide his disappointment.

“I only got that degree because I was tired of hearing the disappointment in your voice whenever you told people what it is I do.”

“And what do you do?”

“I paint.”

“That’s not a job!”

“You’re right!” Lerato enthused, “it’s not a job, it’s a calling!”

Her father rolled his eyes, “Can you believe this!?”

Mzwandile chuckled in response.

“The reason I didn’t go to work today was because I had an interview at a gallery. I showed them my art, just so they see that I know what I’m talking about. they offered me the job and a space for an exhibition.”

“Wow!”Mzwandile exclaimed.

No one had expected him to speak so the shock made everyone turn their attention to him.

“What?” he asked, his cheeks turning red from the embarrassment, “I mean, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“It is,” his son affirmed.

“I wish you had just told me instead of having me running all over town, looking for you,” Matla said pulling his daughter back into his arms.

“So you’re not mad?”

“I am but I’m also too proud to let it matter.”

Lerato looked up at her father in shock, “You’re proud of me?”

“Your biggest competition in business is your own self-doubt,” Matla said reassuringly, “how can I not be proud when you’ve just proven that you’ll thwart your competition at every turn?”

Lerato smiled and held on tighter to the hug, knowing there would never be any better gesture to personify the. moment.