Unscripted love Chapter 63 - Mzansi Stories

Monday, June 20


Unscripted love Chapter 63


[I wrote this to tell a darker tale about one of the most traumatic experiences a child can possibly encounter, keeping in mind that each person's experience is unique. Divorce is a damaging social phenomenon and issue, one that threatens the foundations of human society itself: family.
According to a recent report released by Statistics South Africa, divorce rates in the country have spiked, while instances of marriage have declined. Children will always be caught in the crossfire, trapped in the battle between their parents, the two people they love most in the world. No child, no matter how old, can avoid being permanently scarred by the incident. I hope to raise awareness about this social issue. Having been through a similar experience myself, it means a lot to me.
I feel the need to say that I have nothing against pastors. I respect them and I know that there are tons who lead holy lives. Let’s just say the video leaked by Pastor Zondo’s mistress served as inspiration.]
Lost In The Chaos
I hid myself. Under the thick blanket on my bed, my arms wrapped around my head, my body curled into a foetal position, and my frantic mind praying for the end of his war. I felt myself quivering from head to toe in fright, my eyes leaking hot salty tears, and beads of perspiration trickling down my forehead onto my pillow, as I lay a helpless witness to the hellish battle, taking place just down the passage.
"I won't let you have Futhi! She can’t just pack and move to Jo’burg. She has to go to school, woman!" My father hooted.
"What do you know about raising a child? You can't even control your penis, much less your children!!" My mother lamented.
"How many times do I have to tell you that I have not slept with Forgiveness, Maria!? You being here, demanding that she come with you shows that you do not have her best interests at heart. You are just bitter."
"WHAT INTERESTS?! You don't know your daughter! You hardly ever even SEE your daughter! For that matter, you don't know Thando that well, either! Which is why she picked me!"
"Thando certainly didn't pick you! She took you in because she felt sorry for you. Besides, she was chased out of this house."
I brought my shaking knees closer into my chest, trying to make myself smaller. They were fighting over me again. Every time I heard my name being mentioned, my stomach jolted and turned to ice. They had been fighting over me for three weeks now, and every time my mother showed up unannounced, I made myself scarce. While they screamed at each other, they never pondered how I felt. I was terrified beyond my wits. Why don't they just stop it already? How long was this going to last?
"And I say Futhi stays with me! You are unemployed and you are sponging off your daughter that is busy making plans to move overseas with that boy. What are you going to do when they leave?! How is Futhi supposed to finish school if she moves with you?"
"Futhi and I are going to live with my sister while I look for a job. Futhi doesn’t want to stay here with your whore!”
“How do you know she doesn't want to stay with me, Maria? I for one know that she hasn’t chosen either of us yet! I don’t want my child living like a squatter. She needs stability and she needs to focus on her studies. I can give her the stability she needs."
I heard Mom's unusually cruel high-pitched laughter, mocking Dad.
"Ha! You know nothing about your kids, you crazy deluded swine! I don't think you'll even be aware if one of them died, until three days after! I am certain that Futhi is always home alone because you would rather spend time with your prostitute. You care more about her than your own flesh and blood."
“Baby, can you tell her to stop calling me names. I have been very respectful and I expect the same courtesy.” Forgiveness butt in.
A deafening crash rang from the living room, reverberating throughout the house, and rocking me to the core. I gave a quiet little scream of terror and plugged my ears with my clammy fingers, hoping to block the awful battle sounds out. Tears drenched my face as I uttered a silent but desperate prayer to God. Please, Lord, make them stop! Make them stop! I can't take it anymore!
"Stay out of this wena nondindwa! [you whore.]" My mother huffed. "I took care of those kids all by myself, for your damn information! You weren't there for any of Futhi’s chess tournaments! You climbed on your throne and banished Thando from this house when you have also failed to observe God’s holy law. You don’t even know that she wants to pack her bags and move in with that boy no matter what I say. Bottom line is, YOU DON'T KNOW THEM!!"
"That's not true! I have been there since the day they were born. I have loved and cared for them as their father and tried my best to make sure that they are God fearing, righteous women…"
"That is totally different! That was when you were still a loving father; a family man! That was before you turned into a love struck, abusive, womanizing…"
"…son of a bitch who doesn’t care about his damn family at all! All you care about is this…. this thing."
Another crash, this time with the sounds of broken glass vases to go with it. Forgiveness screamed at the top of her lungs, while mom yelled incoherently. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and bit my knuckles to keep myself from screaming in agony. Lord, please make them stop! Make them stop! MAKE THEM STOP!
What would the church say if they saw us like this? Why were we like this? Why was my father so intent on taking a second wife when it was clear that my mother wasn’t going to allow it? Wasn’t she woman enough for him? I thought a family was supposed to stick together. So why were they fighting? Why is this family falling apart? Did God plan this? Did God even allow polygamy?
"Maria, just sit the hell down and listen. This isn't about us, Maria! This isn’t about Forgiveness. We were talking about Futhi's future!"
"Fine! Then we'll end this! You keep your beloved Forgiveness, Futhi is mine!"
"I disagree! Thandolwethu has chosen to accommodate you in her flat. That's her decision which is fine by me! But I will not allow you to bully Futhi into following you! She has her rights!"
"Fine! Fine then! Let's ask her!” My mother bellowed.
“FUTHI! COME HERE, NOW!!" Dad's thunderous roar shook the very foundations of the house. I gave a loud squeal of horror, but stayed completely still. Hiding under the blanket, quaking in terror, and crying half a pint, I felt, more like ever, a rabbit waiting for the eagle to pass. Instead, the eagle waited.
"FUTHI! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!" My dad called again.
God, help me! Please, help me! I can't take this anymore! Jesus, save me, I beg you!
"Futhi, if you don't come here this instant…"
Mom's voice, for some reason, was more terrifying than Dad's. Very hesitantly, I crawled out of my blanket and crept out of the room in my thin nightgown. My feet felt as heavy as a million tons, and every step I took towards the living room felt like a step closer to hell.
I poked my head through the doorway, only to behold an utter scene of devastation. A chair lay broken against the wall, three feet from Mom. A million shards of glass were left scattered all over the floor, and amongst them, three bunches of flowers lay in the wreckage, looking discoloured and forlorn. But it was Mom and Forgiveness that really frightened me.
Mom's weave looked like a pile of hay, with strands of locks stuck to her sweaty brow. I just knew she got a weave to provoke my dad. Her eyes were fiery and fierce, and she was breathing very heavily, as if she was just involved in a physical fight. Dad's eyes were no less scary; they looked like the Basilisk's eyes, complete with its death glare. Forgiveness was drenched with sweat, her fists were clenched like iron vices, and panting like she had just ran a marathon.
I was petrified.
"Well? Futhi? You heard everything, right?" Mom growled, shifting her gaze to me. "You choose which one of us you want to follow."
"Who do you choose? Your mom or me?" Dad barked, glaring at me.
I looked at them both for a few seconds, and suddenly, a rush of emotion flooded my veins. It was something new, something I did not expect to feel.
Why are they fighting over me as if I were some sort of prize to be won? Why do they sound like they expect me to love one of them more than the other? Are they so determined to hate and hurt each other that they would use me as the rope in their tug-of-war? Do they really care about how I feel?
I don't think either of them noticed my puffy red eyes. The result of a whole night's crying. Because of fear, worry, confusion and grief. Grief because our family has dissolved into this sorry state. If they didn’t care about how I felt at all, why would I choose either of them?
The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. The words that I had kept within me for so long. "STOP IT! DON'T YOU GUYS KNOW YOU'RE SCARING ME?!"
A dreadful silence settled upon the room as Mom and Dad froze, staring at me disbelievingly. My eyes welled up once more, and my lower lip began to quiver. I knew I was going to start crying again. But what did they care? All they wanted was me to choose so one could feel like they won! If that is so, then I didn’t want them!
Without hesitation, I whirled around and darted out of the door, before I could burst into tears in front of them. As I wrenched the door open and threw myself into the cold winds and darkness of night, I heard Mom's voice, now remorseful, calling desperately from twenty feet away.
"Futhi, wait…"
I didn't look back. I didn't have anywhere to run to. All I wanted to do right now was to get out of that house, away from my so-called "parents", away from those dreadful last three weeks of war, during which endless slews turned all of us into emotional wrecks.
I just ran. Blinded by tears, I knew no direction. I ran until I could run no more. As soon as I ran out of breath, I collapsed against a lamp post and broke down into tears.
Why was my home and life replaced by living hell? Why did my parents turn into psychopaths? Why did this happen to us? Was this God's doing? Was this supposed to be some sort of test, so that I could get stronger? Or did God just abandon us? Where was God in all of this?
I hugged that lamppost for what felt like an hour, crying at the top of my lungs, until I had no more tears to give. I felt, for that precise moment, it was best for me to die. Death would afford peace.
Eventually I ran out of breath and collapsed against the post, still sobbing, feeling sick and faint. I had never felt so alone before, nor ever so cold. Loneliness seemed to be the perfect word to describe the cold despair I experienced. The unforgiving winds of the frigid night whipped and lashed at my trembling and weakened body. As I tried to cease my sobs and hoist myself up on my feet, I kept, in whimpers, muttering a dark mantra: Please, Lord, just let me die…
"Futhi? What the…why are you…what happened to you?"
That voice from behind me…was so familiar…yet, why was it there? I whirled around to face the speaker. For a moment we stared at each other, transfixed and flabbergasted.
It was Brother Solomon, the man my parents wanted my sister to marry, and, at that moment, the only person I could turn to. He was staring at me in the most uncharacteristic way; it was half pity, half shock. His misty eyes were wide open, unblinking, while the rest of him froze in an utterly horrified trance. His hands loosened, letting a plastic with takeaway boxes plummet to the floor so that he could yank off his suit jacket.
I tried to say hello, but instead a weak quivering wail escaped my lips. As he reached out to pull me up, I burst into fresh tears and pounced onto him, crying ceaselessly into his shoulder. "Come on, Futhi, let's get you somewhere warm…" Brother Solomon whispered, and I felt him leading me somewhere. Automatically, my legs obeyed, and we began moving. I didn't know where he was leading me, nor did I care. All I wanted to do was cry. Cry into my eyes had no more tears to give. As we journeyed I noticed that we were walking towards his car and I heard my broken heart speak up. “I don’t want to go home.”
“Okay, I don’t usually have people over at my place but we can go there.” He said. He unlocked the door and helped me step into his BMW X5. “I only got enough food for one person, have you eaten?”
I shook my head in response. “No.” I made my answer clearer when he gave me a blank stare. He started the engine and turned up the heat.
“I’m gonna go back inside to get you some food. Do you want anything in particular?” Brother Solomon asked.
“I eat everything except veggies.” I let out. Unlike my sister that didn’t really like meat, I ate everything they sold at chesa nyama.
He chuckled at my response. “To think that your sister sometimes has salad as a meal. I’ll be right back, okay?”
“I got you pap, chops and wors. Oh, it obviously comes with gravy,” he said when he climbed back in the car. I smiled in response.
“Thank you, Brother Solomon.”
Solomon: Do you want to call your sister?
Me: I don’t have my phone.
Solomon: She doesn’t take my calls anymore so I can’t use my phone.
Me: She is in Johannesburg anyway, its not like I can go to her place. I haven’t even spoken to her in three weeks, it’s not like she would help me if she was around. All she cares about is Brother Levi.
He fished his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to hide my caller ID. You have to call her so that your family knows that you are safe.”
I took the phone from him. “Sister Thando is dealing with her own stress right now, I don’t want to burden her with my trivial issues.”
Solomon: There is nothing trivial about the state you are in. Your sister cares deeply about you, you know that, right?
I huffed and looked out of the window. He finally pulled out of the parking lot and started driving.
“Let’s get you fed and warm then we can talk about whatever is eating you up.” That sounded like a good idea.
"Wow, Futhi, I'm so sorry." That was all Brother Solomon could say as I relived the horrifying details of my parents' latest fight, he sat beside me on the coach, holding my trembling hands.
"I can't take it anymore. I don’t understand why my father dragged this other woman into the picture," I heard myself blubbering between hiccups. "I just don’t understand why dad wants to take another wife! All of this is his fault." I added, placing angry emphasis on the last sentence. “My parents want me to choose one of them. Its either I stay with dad and his ever present visitor that wrecked our family or I move with mom.”
“Does Sister Forgiveness sleep over at your place?” Brother Solomon asked tentatively.
Me: No. She doesn’t sleep over and my dad sleeps at home every day, he just comes home late.
"So now, your mom wants you to voice in with her. Didn’t you say your mom moved to Jo’burg with your sister?"
Me: She did but Sister Thando wants to move in with Brother Levi so my mom will move to my aunt’s place while she looks for a job.
“Thandolwethu is moving in with that guy?” His question sounded more like a gasp.
“She is. They are actually moving to London. I don’t want Sister Thando to move to London but nobody really cares about me." My heart nodded in earnest at these words. "All they want is to use me as bragging points! I HATE THEM!!"
“Thandolwethu is moving to London?” he gulped. “When?”
“I don’t know…. All I know is that Brother Levi wants to pay lobola and inhlawulo but my dad-”
“Inhlawulo!?” Brother Solomon’s eyes widened. “She’s pregnant?”
“Yes.” I squeaked. He let go of my hand and sank back in his two seater couch. A look of complete despair registered on his face.
“She is about 13 weeks pregnant now. I don’t think she will leave Brother Levi and marry you, she is obsessed with him and she has changed so much because of him. Have you seen them climbing on each other all over instagram?”
Solomon: What’s that?
“It’s like Facebook for pictures. Brother Levi posts a picture of them looking so happy together every day. I don’t understand how she can be so happy when I am falling apart….. I am supposed to be going to my matric dance today, I am supposed to be happy.”
I pounded my knees furiously, breaking into fresh waves of tears. Crying behind my hands hid a horrible sight; a face twisted by despair and suffering. As a result of three weeks of crying and sleepless nights, my eyes had a permanent tearful and bloodshot look in them. My facial features always bore a depressed look, the bounce in my step was replaced with lethargic staggering, and my entire zesty outlook on life was lost. My best friend once remarked my eyes looked like they had chili sauce spilled in them.
Everyone in school mocked me. In less than a month, my entire persona changed. I no longer had the energy and mood to be the old Futhi Khoza; the sunny, easy-going and hyperactive girl trying to show everyone that being a Christian was cool. In fact, once Amber and Manda called me an "emo". I hadn't a clue to what it meant, but I thumped them nevertheless. (I got detention, of course, and a subsequent thrashing from Dad when I got home.)
Brother Solomon gathered me in his arms and told me not to cry while rubbing his hand up and down my back. I’d never been so close to a man before. I suddenly felt very self-conscious but I didn’t push him away.
“Shhhh Futhi. I don’t want tears on that pretty little face of yours.” He mumbled. Did he think I was pretty? I blushed at the thought. "I…guess you should just, I don't know, tell them how you feel."
"Do you even KNOW what’s going on in that house?" I spat angrily, rounding at Brother Solomon. “Mom is livid. Dad is hell bent on taking another wife even though he is clearly losing his first wife. Sister Thando is only concerned about making sure lobola is paid so that she can relocate. Nobody cares about my stupid feelings.”
“Obviously they care if they are fighting over you.” He retorted, his tone of voice suggesting annoyance. Instantly, I regretted my words.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, not daring to look him in the face. "It's just, I've been so frustrated and scared at the same time for so long, I just want it to end. I'm sick of living like a damn frightened mouse!"
Red-hot anger surged through my veins once more, ravaging my soul with dark thoughts. Indeed, I was dying inside. I let the sudden rage simmer, slowly releasing it through the beads of tears dripping out of my eyes. I collapsed onto his chest and he wrapped his arm around my limp body. An uneasy silence dawned upon the house.
“I wonder if I will ever have my own family.” Brother Solomon said after fifteen minutes of complete silence. Just us sitting under a blanket, with me wetting his shoulder with my tears.
“I didn’t want to make the mistake of marrying the wrong person and ending up in divorce court so I prayed and waited for the Lord to show me who I was meant to marry.
I know that God wanted Hosea to marry a prostitute but I don’t want that for myself. I don’t want to marry a person who isn’t a virgin. I wouldn’t be able to live with knowing that another person has penetrated and defiled this person. It doesn’t even sound like Thandolwethu is born again. Lomuntu ufuna ukukipita. [This person wants to live with a man that she isn’t married to.]” As he looked at me and spoke, his eyes blazed with spirit. His eyes bore a look of hopelessness, as opposed to the gaze of pity and awkwardness that he gave me earlier.
Me: Sounds like you really love her.
Solomon: I was going to learn to love her even though we are so different. You and I have far more in common, at some point I wondered if it wasn’t you in that vision since the two of you look so similar.
My heart fluttered at his words. “Prophet Melton saw a vision of the two of you singing. I can’t sing. God wouldn’t use me to sing unless he wanted to chase people out of heaven.”
We laughed. “Thando once asked if we weren’t just singing a duet but not necessarily as husband and wife. That makes more sense now because I could never respect her as a wife.”
Brother Solomon eased me off his shoulder and fetched a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“I don’t drink,” I immediately informed him.
“It’s just wine.” He told me.
“I don’t think we are supposed to be drinking,” I insisted as he started pouring the wine into glasses.
“Jesus turned water into wine, remember? Why would he do that if he didn’t want us to drink wine?” It was a very good question. “Have a glass and pretend that you are with your friends at the matric dance and not here with the old chop.”
Me: You are not an old chop. I just hope I’m not boring you.
I took the glass from him and scooted over when he sat back down.
“You are not boring me. Listen, Futhi. Everyone goes through hard times, so hard they think they'll be happier dead than alive. But as long as you know what you're dealing with, you have to stand up and face it. As long as you stay strong, you'll make it through, whatever the challenge is. Don’t let this crumble you. I lost my first wife, my kid lost his mother, but we stayed strong, and we pulled through. If we can do it, so can you."
I felt an instant rush of affection towards the man. I instantly felt a powerful aura of wisdom surround him. He cared, unlike my own parents, and I almost dared to call him a friend.
“I didn’t know that you were married.” I told him.
“I got married when I was twenty-one. A year later we had a child, my wife died when Abraham was two. He lives with my mom because I travel extensively.”
“Sorry to hear that. How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“I don’t mind. I’m thirty-five. You are 17, right?”
“I’ll be 18 soon.”

He was blessed with good genes that shaved at least eight years off his age. Brother Solomon was undeniably handsome with a prominent jaw, straight nose and the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. I never quite understood why my sister disliked him so much when there was so much to love.
I sceptically took a sip of my drink and sent him a small smile. “I see you don’t have a TV,” I noted.
“For the exact same reasons why you don’t watch TV,” he said. I wondered what else Sister Thando had told him about me, it actually warmed my heart to know that she spoke of me. For the first time that night, I felt the despair lighten its load, the cold gave way to affection and warmth, and the loneliness I’d felt for weeks dissipated. I felt like someone cared again.
“So, if you really had to choose who would you choose? Mom or dad?” Brother Solomon’s speech was a little slurred after his fourth glass of wine.
“I don’t want to choose.” I said reproachfully, feeling the gut-wrenchingly painful thought manifest itself in the form of renewed sobs. I kept thinking to myself, I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry. However, I knew I was. I was so sensitive it was embarrassing.
"God wouldn’t allow this to happen if he didn’t think that you were strong enough to handle it, Futhi!" Brother Solomon exclaimed, putting an arm across my shoulders, edging dangerously close to my face. “You are strong enough to get through this. If you ever need someone to talk to, I am here for you." He said jubilantly.
I decided then. Brother Solomon was right. I had to stand for myself, face Mom and Dad, and tell them how I felt. ‘There was no avoiding it, only going through it.’ I said to myself with iron-wrought determination, I would end this custody battle myself. Whom I would chose still remained a matter to discuss. However, I had the right to speak up and take matters into my own hands. Even though the final say was not mine.
When he got pretty buzzed, I noticed he was getting slightly emotional with me, and slightly touchy. He started rubbing his hands up my leg but I didn’t think much of it.
“Do you want to go home now?” Brother Solomon asked. He could hardly speak, driving was out of the question.
“No, I’ll crash on the couch.” I stated.
“The couch? You can sleep on the bed and I will sleep on the couch.” I couldn’t possibly inconvenience him in his own house.
“I sleep on the couch all the time. I’ll be fine.” I insisted.
“If you insist. Let me get you a pillow.” He said and lost his footing when he got up and toppled over. I draped his hand over my shoulder and helped him get up walk into his bedroom.
Instead of passing me a pillow, Brother Solomon walked into his bathroom and I heard the sound of water gushing out of the shower.
Feeling exhausted and a little lost as to what I was supposed to be doing with myself I leaned against the door and waited for him to round up his shower.
“I assumed you were gonna grab a pillow.” He said, with a light smile, when he walked out of the bathroom in his shorts.
“I, um, I can’t just grab things.” I returned.
“You should wear something warmer.” He scratched through his closet and handed me a shirt and long tracksuit pants. I padded to the bathroom to change. When I returned he was lying down on the bed, on his stomach with his chin resting in his hands while reading the bible.
“Don’t you find the book of Genesis fascinating? I always look for the hidden meaning behind the mind boggling stories.” He moved closer to the headboard and patted the spot next to him, which was a way of telling me to sit next to him. For that second I was scared. I’d never been in a room alone with a person of the opposite sex, not even Brother Sabelo and he was always at our house.
“Turns out, I took my blankets to the dry cleaners so I only have one and we have to share. We can sleep facing different directions, if that will make you feel comfortable.” It was hard to believe that some people only had a single blanket in their house. Where was his comforter? What happened to his pillow cases and continental pillows? Mom said we couldn’t sleep on pillows without pillow cases.
I think we ended up somewhere in the middle of his bed while debating the notion of collective punishment. Brother Solomon was of the fascinating view that the principle of collective punishment was fundamentally unjust. “Through my interrogation of scripture Adam and Eve received the instruction about the fruit and disobedience happened at that level. I am struggling to understand on what basis Adam and Eve's disobedience extended beyond the borders of Eden. Why is it that you have to suffer when you give birth for what someone else did?”
I hadn’t given it much thought but I said, “My father told me that scripture was not written to be reasoned with the canal mind, but revealed by the Spirit of God. Remember how Jesus said people were to eat his flesh and drink His Blood? He did not mean that literally. On the same breath, if you question collective punishment then you should also question collective redemption because one man died on the cross for all our sins.”
“Wow, Futhi. I never looked at it that way. That calls for another glass of wine.” I laughed when he rolled off the bed and fetched the bottle of wine which we guzzled down before dozing off. I was jilted awake in the early hours of the morning by the feel of hands running over the fabric covering my thighs and something that felt like a broom poking my bum.
My heart froze and I started to panic when Brother Solomon’s hands ventured into his pants that I had on.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Shhhh. Turn around and kiss me, baby.” He coerced.
“This is wrong.” I reminded him.
“We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to kiss you, that all.” I kissed a boy once, if kissing someone on the playground with both mom’s cheering you on counts.
"I'm not sure" I replied.
He accepted that and yanked his hands out of my pants. An arm slipped around from behind me and his warm hand lay on my stomach. I gasped at the contact and his other arm also slipped around me. He grabbed my arm covering my chest and pulled it down to my side.
“That’s better,” he said quietly, in a husky tone, right next to my ear, “You’re absolutely beautiful, sweetheart. The feel of your skin is making me so horny.”
“Okay?” I was trying not to feel so nervous. I was both excited and scared that I had that effect on him. Brother Solomon was an amazing human being – but I had never done anything like that before and touching like this before marriage was so wrong! I wanted to pull away but I started thinking 'Kissing isn’t prohibited.' I turned to face him and I gave him a peck on the lips which kind of surprised him.
He leaned in and kissed me, and at the same time positioned himself on top of me between my legs. I could feel something in his pants rubbing up against my pants-clad vagina. Every part of me was throbbing, and I could just feel my panties getting wetter and wetter. I couldn’t explain this foreign feeling and I couldn’t explain why my panties were getting wet. The more he rubbed himself against me, the more I ached for him.
“I just want to make you feel happy, sunshine,” Brother Solomon growled in my ear as his hand on my stomach slid down lower, crept under his pants and my panties. His hand dipped between my legs, pressing against me. I squirmed, panting, because what he was doing felt so good, and I gasped when he split my vagina lips with his fingers and pushed a finger inside me.
“Oh…” I moaned and Brother Solomon let out a pleased growl as his finger slid in and out of me.
“You like that baby?” he hissed.
“Yeah,” I admitted, trying not to pant, relishing the tight warmth of his arms and the things his hand was doing to me down below.
“You won’t be able to walk by the time I’m done with you,” Brother Solomon added in a satisfied growl, like he knew exactly what he was going to do to me.
His finger left me and he ran his hands down my hips. I shyly looked up at him and he placed his body flush against mine, crushing his lips to mine. The kiss was cruel and hard, but I enjoyed every part of it. While he kissed me, he grabbed both my wrists and brought my hands to his black shorts and slid it inside them. I could feel the hard bulge trying to push through as he ran my hand over his penis. I don’t think he was wearing underwear. I honestly thought I could hear both of our hearts beating when he made me wrap my hand around his penis. Even the walls in his room seemed to be making noises. No matter how much alcohol was flowing through my system, I knew that this was wrong.
“Wait….” I whispered.
“Shhhhhh. Just relax.” He dipped his head and kissed me.
Brother Solomon broke the kiss to grab his pants, take them down and kick them aside. I’d only seen a drawing of a penis in biology, I never knew it could be this gigantic thing that didn’t even look straight.
“We really should stop now. I don’t want to do this.” I stated.
“You’ll be fine, darling. I’ll just put it in a little bit,” Brother Solomon tried to assure me as I gawked with wide eyes at it, and then at him. Nix, that thing wasn’t going anywhere near me.
“I don’t know if it’ll fit!” I said honestly. I really wouldn’t be able to walk!
“It will, I’ll be gentle,” he promised. Brother Solomon’s’ whole body covered me as he leaned down to kiss me again. One of his hands trailed down to my open legs and he continued his onslaught. My clit was swollen and sensitive from his touch and I lost all coherent thoughts as I moved my hips in sync with his hand.
Oh God, this thing he was doing felt so good. I barely registered his other hand squeezing my right breast and his lips trailing kisses up to my ear. I registered the hand when it moved down and yanked my pants and panties off. I felt so bare.
“I’m not going to put all of it in, okay?”
“Wait, but aren’t you supposed to put on a condom or something?” Why was I entertaining this?
“I obviously do not have condoms and I’m not going to put the whole thing in. I’ve been able to resist temptation for many years but there is something about you that has me acting reckless,” he said, moving both his hands to my thighs, he started to push my legs apart. I felt my wetness leaking from me, I was so hot and horny. I wanted him in me, I couldn’t deny it. He fit his hips snuggly in-between my thighs, the head of his penis pushed at my entrance.
He pulled my shirt up over my head and began licking and biting my nipples. It felt so good as I ran my fingers through his hair, my hard nipples in his mouth. When I felt him pulling my lower body up and pushing his head in my vagina I remember thinking, ‘why did some girls at school say that having sex for the first time was sore?’ The split second after that I felt myself ripping apart. There was a sharp pain – the loss of my virginity. I could equate the pain to the child birth videos we’d watched in biology.
“Stop! This thing is painful.” I cried out and he carried on moving in and out of me. “Brother Solomon!”
“Shhhhhh. It’s gonna get better, just give it five minutes then it will feel good.”
“No, I actually want you to stop. I don’t want to do this. Get off.”
“Futhi, just wait.”
“God is watching us. Jesus is shaking his head and the devil is celebrating. We have to stop.”
“Having sex for half a minute doesn’t make it less of a sin so let’s just finish what we started and we’ll ask for forgives afterwards.”
His fingers intertwined with mine, pressing my hand deeper into his mattress.
“Brother Solomon!” I mumbled, it came out more as a moan than a protest.
He thrust his weight against me repetitively, groaning against my ear, his stubble cutting into my cheek. “I’m almost done babe,” he breathed against my neck.
It didn't hurt so much after a while. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was a little uncomfortable, yet it felt so good at the same time. I didn’t know whether to pull him closer or push him off. Suddenly there was this unexplainable feeling in my gut, I couldn't stop a little moan escaping my lips. My hips were trusting up and down, and my breathing was heavy and fast. I cried out from the pleasure, feeling myself topple over the edge. He moved faster and faster and quickly slid out of me. He grabbed his shirt and made funny noises as he held it firm around his penis.
Before long we were back at it again. We kept at it for what felt like hours, he seemed to be quenching a thirst he’d had for years. Him on top, me on top (not knowing what to do), kneeling on the bed, me sitting on his lap. I liked being on the bottom better, I loved feeling his weight on me and I didn't have to do anything, I could just relax and lie there and think about things. I remember how hot I got when I laid down on my stomach and he began rubbing his hard penis up and down my slit, finally putting it inside me as I felt his warm breath on the back of my neck and I clutched the sheets in front of me.
Finally, he rolled me over and placed my legs on his shoulders and began ramming into me me…hard, and fast. My aching and sore vagina was really getting pounded and I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t just uncomfortable, it hurt, but it felt sooo good at the same time. The pleasure and pain combination was absolutely incredible. For something to feel so good, yet hurt so much was quite a new experience for me. With my head thrown back and by arms up against the headboard I began to really moan.
He suddenly looked at me and told me he was about to cum. I didn’t know what that meant or what I was supposed to do about it. I soon found out when he pulled his shiny penis out of my sore vagina, he shot cum clear over my head. I had never seen anything like it. Instead of landing on my tummy (which we both thought was going to happen) he ended up hitting the wall behind my head. We were both in shock, and started laughing at what had just occurred.
I smiled and told him he had taken my virginity, to which he replied with a smile and a shake of his head “No, you gave it to me.” He reached up and kissed the tip of my nose then instructed me to close my eyes while he prayed for forgiveness for our despicable acts. I nestled beside him, his arm wrapped around my naked form. The room went silent.
“I’m going to choose my mom,” I said after a long while. I could hardly keep my lips from trembling, or the tears that came down like raindrops.
“Shhhh, don’t cry baby.”
“Please take me home.” I requested.
He grabbed his phone and pressed the screen to check the time. “It’s 3AM.” He protested. “And I have 6 missed calls from your sister. Let me call her back to see what she wants at this ungodly hour.”
“Have you seen Futhi by any chance?” Sister Thando’s frantic voice was loud enough to be heard in the silent room.
“No, why?” he lied.
“Nobody knows where she is.” Sister Thando sounded like she was in a panic.
“Why would she be with me?” This man asked.
“I don’t know. I’m just calling anyone that knows her.” She sneered.
“Well, I haven’t seen her.”
“Please call me if you bump into her…. Apologies for waking you up, I wouldn’t have bothered you if it wasn’t important.”
“It’s okay, you know you are allowed to call me at any time. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
“Thanks, nite.”
“Nobody can know that you were here and you cannot tell anyone what we did. Do you understand?” I nodded, petrified by his stern tone and his sudden mood.
“Get dressed, I’m taking you home.” He commanded.
When he dropped me off a block away from home I half expected him to kiss me or hug me again but he didn’t. Instead, he reminded me the events of that evening had to stay between us. I nodded and jumped out his car. My lungs ached from lack of oxygen as I ran down the block. My mind raced along with my heart slamming against my rib cage, certain that my father was going to discern was I was up to and skin me alive.
I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath. How the hell had my sister been roped into this fiasco? What was I going to tell everyone? Never again, I promised myself. If I ever got out of this alive, I would never run away from home nor fornicate again.
Guilt racked my entire being as I opened the gate and padded inside our yard. I felt a numbing chill assault the soles of my feet from the uneven, creaky old cement pavement as I marched haphazardly around the confines of our veranda. Giving my pink, fuzzy slippers on my feet a fleeting look, my eyes were then drawn to the one window with the lights on and I briskly rubbed my goose pimpled arms. The August wind howled and raged, matching the swirling unease of my mind. I unwittingly erupted in prayer and asked God to save me from my parent’s fury, especially my mother who turned into a raging lion when she was enraged.
Slowly, with the movements of a sloth, I opened the door and eased my way into the house. When the door screeched I bit back a curse. A small amount of relief leaked into my gut when I didn’t see anyone sitting in the living room. I crossed the room to my destination wishing I were invincible.
To my mortification, I heard voices coming out of my room.
“Maria, are you still reading that stupid diary?” My father’s voice sounded.
“You aren’t going to find anything in her closet. Girls like jotting down their feelings. Futhi doesn’t have anything personal in here, just bible verses. I told you she doesn’t have secret friends or a secret boyfriend that she could have gone to. This is all your fault Mayihlome! My child is gone because of you and that home wrecker.” My mother cried.
Dad: Phephisa sthandwa sami. [Calm down, my love] We are going to find her.
“Do not touch me. Just leave me alone.” My mother’s resistance was followed by her sobs. I felt the dizzy feeling of blood rushing from my head knowing that I was the source of her gut-wrenching cries.
A chill ran from my toes up the back of my legs, was that from the ice rink floor or my nerves, probably both I thought. I hadn’t even realized I had made a full circuit of the passage and stood in front of my bedroom door. Shuddering, I glanced down at my parents clutching on to each other surrounded by my belonging sprawled all over the floor.
I dissolved into them and threw a hand over their shoulders, relief washed over their faces, a single lone tear streamed down my father’s face when it sunk in that I was home safe and sound. I’d never seen him cry. He did not even miss a beat when he preached the gospel of salvation at his twin brother’s funeral. I that moment I saw a glimmer of hope. They still loved each other. They still cared about each other.
“You have to make it work because I choose both. I want to see both of you every day. I want to share all my birthdays and all the holidays with the two of you together, just like it’s always been. You always preach that nothing is too hard for God so I believe that he can fix this. I also believe that God is love and he is a forgiving God. If we want to be Christ like then we have to exude love.
We have to show each other love. You have to forgive Sister Thando because love doesn’t keep record of wrong, it is kind and it is patient. You can’t just kick her out and order me not to talk to her as if she isn’t an integral part of this family. That goes against everything that Christianity is about. People at church will talk because the pastor’s child is pregnant - so what? Is their opinion more valuable than your own child? When did we value public opinion so badly that you would choose to banish your child because she made a mistake? Mistakes happen and you find yourself in situations you never ever thought you would be.
In Matthew 18 verse 22 Jesus tells us to forgive not just seven times, but up to seventy times seven times! You have to forgive her trespasses, mine too, so that God can forgive your trespasses. You have to live what you have been preaching your whole life.
Public opinion even has you sticking your fingers into Sister Thando’s relationship and it’s causing a drift. Dad, nobody chose mom for you. Same thing goes for you, mom. Let Sister Thando choose, let Brother Levi pay lobola so that they are not forced to live in sin because you refuse to follow due process. Someone out there saw value in my sister and he wants to make an honest woman out of her. He wants to honour her by giving her his surname and do right by her and my niece or nephew, your grandchild. We are supposed to be celebrating as a family, instead we are tearing each other apart like savages.
I get it! Brother Levi is lost, he doesn’t know God but we can win him over with love. God can show him that he exists in the way that we live our lives. Forget about Brother Solomon! Stop turning the beautiful relationship with your daughter toxic by trying to shove him down her throat. She doesn’t want him and I tend to side with her when she says that the bible doesn’t support the notion of God showing people their spouses via one sided visions. I have searched the scripture and I haven’t come across it. The bible warns us against adding and taking away from God’s commandments. There is a thin line between interpretation of scripture and adding that which isn’t there and confusing the flock while we are at it.
You don’t even know who Brother Solomon truly is when he steps off the pulpit. Don’t assume you know a person’s character by virtue of their position in the church.” I wept.
This family wasn’t broken beyond repair. God could fix. He could fix me and help me rediscover myself and my faith in all this chaos.

Subscribe to this Blog via Email :


Write comments
22 June 2016 at 04:27 delete