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I had a conversation...by Buhle Madonsela

I had a conversation....with someone I don't even know. She relates:

For seven years he was my only boyfriend.

I moved in with him one-and-a-half years into our relationship. In the third year, I hinted at the marriage subject. He ignored it. I abandoned the subject and continued to be good to him. Yes, I was good to him, in every way. 

 One Sunday evening, (is it evening or afternoon?) whatever you call that time of the day, we were watching Our Perfect Wedding and it gave me the chance to start on the subject again. He then started to cough, I gave him amanzi (Eng. transl. 'water') and the coughing stopped. I told myself that today he will speak to me about this. And, indeed, he responded. Babe, I just got a new job which pays more money for me to be able to afford lobola (Eng. transl. 'dowry') and other stuff.

I smiled. There was hope...

Seven years into the relationship, and 13 months in his new job...I was still hoping.

You should see his six-roomed house. I cleaned it, did the washing and ironing, I cooked, baked for him, I even bought the most beautiful curtains and bedding for all three bedrooms. You should see the pots I used... I bought them at 'Queens' with my bonus last year. And, every time he hosted his friends at home for their usual social codesa (South African political slang for 'gathering/s'), I used the best dishes and glasses. He loves it when they tell him he has done well for himself. I think I have collected about a hundred-and-seventy-eight CDs that I have been buying for him as presents over the past seven years. There is also a Lee Oscar CD there. He uses 3-ply toilet paper.

Okay...I went to his office after he asked me to pass by one day because I left my job early and when I got there, at reception, the receptionist, Michelle, called his office and told him: "There is a lady at reception by the name of Phindi (pr. 'peendee') for you."

Let me cut a long story short and say to you that today as I'm seated here (Sat. 24 December, 2016), he, Thabiso (pr. 'tahbeesoh'), is getting married to the receptionist (Michelle) in Witbank, Johannesburg.

I am back home.

And you know what? My mother's home was neglected by me all these years. The curtains in this house are torn and worn out. The bedding is so embarrassing I can't even open the bedroom door. Old and burnt Hart-brand pots and no decent drinking glasses to have my Schweppes Granadilla. I use lebekere (from the Afrikaans for 'beker', meaning enamel mug in English).

Thabiso told me it is over and he fell in love with Michelle in the sixth week at his new job and he wants to bring her to his home, I should therefore make way for her. He paid lobola for her while I was still cleaning his house and cooking his favourite meal braaipap (maize porridge) and cooked short ribs.

All my things are still at his house and I did not fetch them because I kept hoping that he will one day call me and tell me that he made a mistake and he wants me to come back. It is now nine months since I left and he hasn't called. I passed by his house one day in my friend's car and she was washing my curtains.

Michelle the receptionist was washing my curtains.

She has 2 kids. I have none.

She has him, I don't.

Status update on Facebook, 2 January, 2016, by South African business coach, Buhle Madonsela.

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