Though he did send the Old Man some money, money was not what the Old Man wanted. He wanted human contact. A chat with his children but especially with his grandchildren. A family party over the holidays or something. But nothing was forthcoming. His family had, therefore, now been reduced to him and his wife – the way they were when they married, but with the sad and bitter difference that they were now both old.
“Ma-N-d-h-l-o-v-u,” the Old Man yelled.
“He-vo,” his wife answered in an equally high tone from the “kitchen”.
“Ahi! Others are already drunk. When am I going to have my breakfast?”
“Now now. Sengibonda isitshwala sakhona – the papa will be ready in a minute. He-ee! Do you think I am using electricity? This firewood is very wet and it is not producing any embers at all.”
The Old Man did not answer back. That was how his wife talked.
Breakfast for the Old Man was chakaoma – dry one- pap and some relish. Not that he could not afford to buy coffee, tea, sugar and bread. No.That was how he liked it.Tea and bread was women’s stuff. In fact, that was what his wife had for breakfast.
Whilst his wife had three meals a day – tea and buttered or margarined bread for breakfast, pap and relish for lunch and the same for supper- the Old Man had only two meals a day, pap and relish, usually meat, for breakfast, and the same for supper, though he usually had meat and meat only for supper.
MaNdhlovu brought the Old Man his breakfast, knelt in the traditional way and said: “Here is your breakfast”.
“Thank you very much, mother of my children,” the Old Man said.
MaNdlovu turned to go. The Old Man did not say anything. He was already digging into the pap and enjoying himself.
“Won’t you even invite me to join you?” MaNdhlovu asked.
“Why should 1? You are going to have your tea and bread for breakfast. This is my only meal until supper.”
“How about if I have put in some mupfuhwira – love portion?”
“If you have put in some mupfuhwira that only shows you love me, doesn’t it?”
“Hevo,” MaNdhlovu said and walked back to her kitchen.
The Old Man did not eat much. That was the problem with eating alone. But he did not leave a single piece of meat. He took the remaining pap and soup and poured it into his dogs’ dish, called his dogs and let them eat.
“Ma-N-d-h-l-o-v-u,” the Old Man called again.
“What is it again?” MaNdhlovu answered.
“Come and collect your plates.”
MaNdhlovu, munching some bread, came to collect the plates, another piece of bread in her hand.
“Thank you very much, mother of my children. Now what is left is a washdown,” the Old Man said.
“Washing down what? You have given all the pap to the dogs.”
“I am not a bag, dear. I have had enough.Now I have got to follow the others.
“That’s what you are always thinking about. Beer, beer, beer. It will kill you if you don’t eat.”
“MaNdlovu do you want me to eat like a young baby who only stops when he is told to?”
“No. Like a reasonable Old Man.”
“That’s what I did. Anyway, it’s too early to have a quarrel. Can I have 30 cents for beer?”
“T-h-i-r-t-y cents? Do others buy beer at all or do they wait for you?”
Continued next page
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