UMakhulu had a money cloth knot that she kept under her mattress or in the pocket of her petticoat depending on when last she had used it. uMzala and I knew where she kept it but she insisted we did not tell anyone – as though anyone didn’t know where old ladies kept their money. When she threw her body onto the bed complaining of having been on her feet the whole day, the whole day could be anything from an hour to eight, I often wondered how the money knot under the mattress was doing. Were the notes inside it compromised? Did they bend and fold due to the weight on top of the bed? 

    “Lele, go and buy some milk, mzukulwana,” uMakhulu said handing me a R10 note. “Auntie Nangi is coming today,” of course why else would we need milk with our tea. The money knot had made its way from under the mattress and was in front of uMakhulu on the table next to which she was standing. She was starting to fold the knot again but not before I noticed the coins and notes inside. The notes were folded on top of each other multiple times. The coins were scattered such that when uMakhulu retied the knot they came together and made the clinking noise that they would continue making in her petticoat pocket until she put it back under the mattress. 

    I made my way to the spaza shop that never had any stock. For all uMakhulu knew I could have passed the time somewhere else and came without the milk and it would have made no difference. 

    “Can I have some milk, please,” I said handing the crushed, folded note to the storekeeper who examined it this way and that before looking at me this way and that. The note seemed to have been affected after all.

2. Mothers and Daughters

“All of you stand against the wall and wait until we come back for you!”

“Pregnant women and women with small babies this side! Family planning that side! Everyone else together there! I will not be repeating myself!”, came the voice from the big bellied, squeaky voiced man who was covered in PPE from head to toe while he was pointing this way, that way and over there.

Leaned against the wall we were all trying to get away from the rain but the building still wasn’t open to us. 

“Are you on the injection?”

“Yes, I don’t trust the other stuff.”

“Apparently they make you fat”, said a woman whose hands were in her track top pockets all the way to the top of her belly because she was fat.

“And dizzy all the time. All those headaches!” 

“As long as I will not have more children I am fine. My children’s father also doesn’t want more.” 

“The father of my child doesn’t want me to be on contraceptives. He wants us to try for more children when the one we have is still small small.” 

“My sista, you can’t listen to men! One moment he will want another child and the next he will leave you pregnant and go for fresher bums.” 

“It’s good to have children but not too many, do you know how hard it is in the labour ward?” 

“Yho! You mustn’t go there if your family never performed a ritual to strengthen you because that thing needs strength.” 

“Do you have children?”

“No.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t want any.” 

“Mxm, you say that now.” 

“She is really just talking. You must have children otherwise whose children will you send to the shops?”