My Mother: My Inspiration

Copyright © 2014 by Mbono Vision Dube. 516174

ISBN: Softcover 9781493141586

Hardcover 9781493141593

EBook 9781493141579

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Rev. date: 03/20/2014

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CONTENTS

DEDICATION

PREFACE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

DEDICATION

I dedicate this novel to my mother, Helminah Flora Ndhovu, my late aunt, Sonengani Ngwenya, my aunts Sinosizi Susan Ngwenya, Siphelile Mnkandla, Sithabisiwe (MaMguni)Ngwenya, Winnet Moyo, Kirilei (Kiri) Ngwenya. my late spiritual mother Mrs S.P. Mathema, my spirtual aunt Mrs Edna Kamanga, and my dormitory mother the late Mrs Mzozoyana. i love you all. To my sisters and cousin sisters both biological and spiritual, who have been inspired by these powerful women in society I urge us to keep the lamps burning.

PREFACE

When I opened my eyes to mother earth, I was welcomed by velvet hands; loving and compassionate full of concern eyes; a dashing heart-breaking smile; a sweet music like voice and a chest that matches no pillow neath the sun. The arms that embraced me on that day were arms that exuded love. All I could say at that point in time was to cry. I was trying to respond to the written love my mother was showing me. She had all the strength to smile like that after such an excruciating experience; child birth. She had just delivered me in an ambulance before even reaching the hospital. A bumpy road rocked her back and forth, up and down until she could not hold me in anymore. Is it not amazing; is it not strikingly surprising that this woman could still hold me in her arms, draw me to her chest and rock me back and forth whilst the attendants were still working on her? Amazing! I could tell I was her jewel. I knew she would dare not trade me for anything in the world. Obviously, my eyes quickly familiarized with this gem that was cut from precious stones from faraway lands. My eyes beheld gold, silver, diamond, ruby, emerald all fused in this one and only special and precious woman in my life. That twinkling smile and that glazing spark in her eyes gave me no other choice or option but declare her mine. There and then I decided she was mine. Though I did not get the opportunity to bond through breast feeding, the love and care that I got from my mum, Lindokuhle, was enough to compensate for the lost warmth from her breasts.

Lindokuhle, popularly known as Lindy among her peers; Mamkwena or Naka Maphapha among her in-laws; Gogo Sitshela among her grand and great grandchildren; Gogo Mfundisi among church members of her congregation; Sisomdala among her sisters, nieces, nephews and brothers; is my inspiration. I have been inspired by other women in my life, for example the lives of my great grandmothers MaGampo and MaMhlo, my grandmother Zinzile, my aunts Mrs Mathema and Mrs Edna Kamanga. But this kind of inspiration I get from my mum is unique. Her origin, history before she got married to my dad; her professional and home life are books unwritten yet readable to many as anthologies of an inspirator.

Lindokuhle was born in 1931. We have always celebrated her birthday in May. Her rich roots are drawn from two countries: Botswana and South Africa. Though she calls herself a Zimbabwean, it is only by birth. My mother’s maternal grandparents were from South Africa. Her grandmother Zothile Malophe is of the Zulu origin. Her grandfather Samuel Mlatshwa is of Xhosa origin. Before her grandmother married her grandfather, she had had two marriages. First, Zothile Malophe married Lavuno and they had only one child, Sibangani. Sibangani had five children. Two of these children, for the sake of my brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews and cousins, are Nembezi (Naka Nelson) and Kitu (Naka John). We grew up with Nelson and John but had no idea how they were connected to us. Lavuno died in war. Zothile then married Buthelele. They had three children. We knew them very well. These were Sifelani (Mrs Mawale or Naka Pi), Galile and Nhlupho (Naka Ganga). As fate had it, Buthelele also died in war. Interestingly, my great grandmother did not give up. She did not say Oh I already have four children let me rest and call it quits. She went ahead, after all these heart breaks, and married my great grandfather Samuel Malophe. They had only one child, my grandmother Zinzile Manano Mlatshwa.

My maternal great grandfather was a caravan driver. Those years back then the caravans were cattle driven. Great grandfather drove caravans from Cape Town to Zimbabwe ferrying gold dust. What a challenging career! Caravan drivers from South Africa were very popular with women both single and married. His brother, whom he was always travelling with, took someone’s wife and ran away with her to South Africa. The husband and his kinsmen demanded for their wife from my great grandfather. He had to go and get the woman who now had a daughter, the lady we always called Vongi or Naka Sifana. But when my great grandfather Samuel handed over the woman with a child, the husband just accepted his wife and rejected the child. That meant my great grandfather had to take care of that child. He had to get married and get married fast. The woman to win his heart was Zothile Malophe. She had to leave her children with her mother Kwemude to take a long winding trip with her new husband.

Zothile Malophe actually found it an interesting journey because she decided to be travelling with him. She must have felt that being left behind when her third husband travelled long dangerous distances would spell another widow tag on her. She would rather be with him every step of his life. Who could blame her? Two husbands had left her and gone to war. They died there leaving her with four children! This woman really wanted to build a home but this time she would rather be her husband’s belt. What a brave woman! My grandmother was born in South Africa and was later taken to Zimbabwe on one of those cattle driven caravan trips. There was a place called Mtuzugwe where most caravan drivers parked their caravans and had some settlements there. This area was convenient because it was kind of a central spot. My great grandfather, on this particular trip with his family plus his niece, his brother’s daughter Vongi, had a breakdown and could not fix the caravan. Days turned into weeks; weeks into months and months into years as he continued, hoping to fix the caravan until he gave up. That is how my great grandmother found herself in the hands of missionaries. She had to work to help put food on the table. Some of her children she had left in South Africa crossed over to be with their mother and stepfather. As my grandmother was growing up, she had to do some chores for the missionaries for a few hours after school. When her mother could not raise money for school fees, she had to take up full employment at Masase mission. Later, my great grandfather, whilst looking for gold dust in Mtamba area, met another woman who later became his second wife. I have always wondered why the Mtamba people claim we are related to them. It is simply because our great grandfather’s eyes wondered to another woman. The result of this union was my grandmother’s step brother, Ntango. He was the only brother my grandmother had who shared the same name. Samuel later died and was buried at Mtuzugwe. The Malophe-Mlatshwa history is interesting to me and I hope my brothers, sisters, cousins on my mother’s side will also find it interesting to read. Yes, I also had an Aha experience because I am now able to thread beads together. My mother and her siblings never showed there was step this and step that. It is now that I can understand the relationships and I do appreciate.

My paternal great grandfather Daniel Mukwena left Botswana for Zimbabwe as a young missionary for the London Missionary Society. He was in the company of his brother. Though from Botswana, his mother was a Zimbabwean from Plumtree. She was a MaSibanda and a grand aunt to the Mpalanka family! Yes, this was another shocker for me. So we are also related to the Mpalanka family? We grew up with them and even shared desks at school with most of them but had no slightest idea we were related. My mother, as she was narrating this history, she smiled and said, Whew! Thank God no one decided to marry or to get married there. It would have been incest.

But we did not know mum, I push her on.

How would you know when you people spend hours on end either watching TV or involved in cheap talk? Our grandmothers were our movies. What a way to brag.

Blessed are you mum. Your grandchildren will not thirst for such information as we did I attempt to will her on again.

Where are my grandchildren? The animal called Diaspora has consumed them.

As we chat on, I discover more about my great grandfather that I did not know about. He drove cattle driven caravans for months until they reached Plumtree, a border town between Zimbabwe and Botswana. They stayed here in the name of rest for years. It was in this locality where my great grandfather earned the nickname ‘Khohliwe’, simple meaning ‘forgot’. He was to forget that once upon a time he was from Botswana. While in Plumtree, my great grandfather and his brother Mabhanti lived among their maternal relatives. Later on they moved into the interior. My great grandfather earned favor with the missionaries and was sent to train as a teacher at Tigerskloof. His first station after training was Nhlozamandla where he met Mary Gampo Balani. From Nhlozamandla he was sent to an open school at Mberengwa Office. Because of his talent, the missionaries entrusted the opening of schools on his lap. He later went to Mtuzugwe School. Missionary Daniel Mukwena Bakwena as he was known in that community and Mary Balani Gampo had seven children: Gracia, Ndaba, Fani, Isaiah, Mduduzi, Naniso and Ntando: five boys and two girls. He later died and was buried at Mtuzugwe.

The London Mission Society took it upon itself to take care of Mukwena’s widow and children by providing them with land and a job for my grandfather Ndaba who was the first born son. This would make it easy for him to care for his mother and siblings. Makuva, in Chingoma area became a suitable habitat for the family even though my grandfather was teaching at Ruvuzhe. I must say the Lutheran Mission has kept its word: it still takes care of the Mukwena Bakwena generation in different ways. Hats off to the London Mission Society which was later on swallowed up by the Lutheran Church, for continually honoring the descendants of