Gold Mask

My arm was wrapped around my little brother’s shoulder who was sobbing loudly. My own tears were heavy on my eyes but I refused to free them. People were watching. Waiting to see my reaction. Waiting to see my emotions. They may have said words of comfort during the week but I knew they didn’t sympathize with us. It was all for show. People do anything just to be viewed as sympathetic and kind. They always use occasions like these to make themselves seem or look like saints.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Throwing the soil inside her grave made it all seem real. I was trying so hard to keep it together. I sniffed and looked at my sister. But one look from her was enough to make me wipe away my almost falling tears. She was 3 years younger than me but she was braver and very stubborn. My mother used to say she was exactly like her growing up. If I wasn’t mourning the death of my superwoman, maybe I would have time to talk about how good of a man my father was when he was still alive. But not good enough because after his death, his family chased us out like we were nothing.

“Come. Let’s go.” My aunt, Tumelo, said as she helped me up. I didn’t even realize that everything was done and people were now heading back home. That is all they cared about nowadays. Walking back to my childhood home, I was stopped by a few of my neighbours and people whom I considered friends. All they cared about were pictures. I didn’t even pay attention to them. I walked inside the house to find people going up and down causing chaos.

"I need to go cool off.” My sister said walking in to our mother’s bedroom. I decided to just be by myself and give myself some time to breathe. I nodded looking at her. “We will be fine.” She said with a small smile before heading out.
We wouldn’t be fine. But I didn’t wanna burst her bubble. I heard my aunts saying something about selling this house and kicking us out. I didn’t understand why they were this cruel. My mother wasn’t even buried when I heard them making plans of taking over what belonged to her. I did a diploma in Consumer Sciences and even graduated but my mother’s health is what that stopped me from going to work in a different town and started taking care of her.

Loud laughter made me nearly jump up. These people didn’t care about what MaXulu’s children were going through. Her being six feet under meant it was over and all was well with them. Their 5 seconds of sympathy was over and it was time for them to go back to their true selves. Their sheep skin was slowly coming off. It was hard to ignore all of this. Entertaining this charade meant I didn’t have to think about where my siblings and I were going to go when our uncles chased us out.

“Cuz we are preparing for the after tears. You are joining us, right?” a cousin of mine said barging into my room. I was super confused. Like my mother died. She really died. She was not coming back. I was still finding it hard to accept her death and here was someone who wanted me to celebrate or drink over her death. Was she for real? I just shook my head and faced the other way. “Your loss then but I will definitely save a pack for you. You need it.” She walked out closing the door behind her. I curled my body in the centre of the bed and just sobbed. I allowed myself to cry away all the pain inside my heart. I knew one session of crying wouldn’t be enough but I had to release some of the pain inside. Walls were closing in on me and I was suffocating. I didn’t know who to turn to or who to talk to. Everyone was fake and untrustworthy.

Maybe mom was going to come through for us in her grave and make sure that we don’t get chased out of this house and end up in the streets, exposed to the rough street life. In times like these I wished I had an older sibling who just could take away all the responsibility that was on my shoulders. It was too much and it was weighing down on me before we even had to move out.

She was my hero. She was a very happy person and nothing could bring her down. Even on her last days, she never shed tears in front of us. She was always happy, smiling and making sure that we were also happy. She would cry in private when she thought nobody was looking. I admired that. I admired her strength and her entire attitude. She was just perfect and the kindest person I have ever met.

…
I tightly held my sister's hand as our aunt pushed us away from the lounge where they had all gathered. I didn't get the chance to listen to what they were speaking about, but I knew that whatever it was, it wasn't in the best interests of my siblings and I.

"Hambo bheka uAndile (Go and check on Andile).” I told my sister with my hands rooted on her shoulders. She gave me a nod then ran off to find our brother who had disappeared immediately after we finished eating. Her face said a lot. You could see that she was holding back on telling everyone where to get off. I only asked her to behave because we were still mourning. I wanted my mother to be respected even in her death. Although our relatives didn’t share the same sentiments.

A ping of guilt attacked my heart when I saw my mother's beautiful face on the wall of the house she left us-- but with our greedy aunts, there's no way this house could belong to us alone. Her. I didn't say my final goodbyes to her in peace or wholeheartedly because I didn’t wanna seem vulnerable to all those vultures. I wanted to hold her hand--the hand that had wrinkled with age, the hard work she had done to provide for her children them. Those hands held stories.

I had kept myself wrapped up in her blankets as I cried like nobody could hear, pouring out my heart the way I could never seem to do when she was alive. Then I laughed at the petty anger I held against my queen--how I blamed her for the fact that I was stuck working as a bartender with a shitty pay--I was a graduate for crying out loud, meant to be umpheki oqavile, an chef as most put it--but because mom became too sick to work, I had to abandon my quest to finding my real job to settling for worse then I deserved.

"Athi ngibheke ukuthi what is there to keep in this house before we sell It." my mother's younger sister screamed from the lounge area.
Sell the house? How could they do that?

My mother's body hasn't even began to decompose and already people are claiming inheritance that never belonged to them.

Where do they think we'll live after they sell our home? Why am I even asking because I know they don't care about us. They never cared when Mom was alive and won't care now. They'd very much feed us to the wolves if that meant they'd gain.

Why are relatives so evil?
“Sisi what are these people talking about?” my little sister came back dragging Andile by his hand. I looked at them both and shook my head. How was I going to take care of these two souls with a salary that couldn’t even maintain one person?
“Keep quiet and keep your head down nana. Don’t say anything to anyone. Whatever they say, we will abide and listen to them because they are our elders. Our mother taught us that we should always respect our elders. We aren’t about to forsake her teachings now.” I said and she just gave me a scowl of disproval.

“It’s good that you have accepted your fate. We are only giving you this week to find a place to stay. My real estate agent friend has already said this house is going to sell very soon. Start packing darlings. It’s nothing personal.” Aunt Tumelo said while standing at the door frame staring at us with a big smile. She seemed so happy and enthusiastic for someone who just lost a sister. They all seemed really happy and relieved as if they were the ones taking care of mom while she was sick.

“You are crazy. We are going nowhere. This is our mother’s house. You can’t chase us out like that. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? We are not leaving this house. Over our dead bodies.” She couldn’t keep quiet for even a second. How did MaXulu do a mistake of giving birth to a younger more fiesty version of herself? I looked at her and shook my head. She just looked at me and moved her eyes to Aunt Tumelo.

“The decision has been made kid. There is nothing you can do about it. You can stand there and whine like a bitch. There will be no changes still. You are old enough to fend for yourselves. Your stupid mother didn’t even leave a will. Did she think she was immortal? Poor gullible Fezile. And you took after her.” she pointed at me. She then gave us a smirk and walked away.

“We will figure things out together. As a family.” I told my siblings who looked like they had no hope. But we weren’t different because I also didn’t believe that things will be better. MaXulu left us. We had nowhere to go. What were we going to do?