The Other Four

by Nsununguli Mbo

  I backed out a bit, unable to believe this was happening. An empty feeling washed over me. I hoped my wife would intervene. I hoped she’d decide there and then to forgive me. But no, she still sat amidst her aunts and mother, head bowed as they explained something to her, probably telling her how bad I was for her, and possibly encouraging her to find another man. This last thought brought tears to my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to imagining her with another man. That would devastate me.

  I stood there looking at my father-in-law with pleading and teary eyes. But he didn’t seem to be in a forgiving mood. I slowly retreated, hoping that he would call me back, or my wife would. But no one did.

  I looked back and there still stood my father-inlaw by the gate, still brandishing the knobkerrie. I went home and cried. I kept looking at my phone. I kept checking and making sure it wasn’t on SILENT.

  I hoped for a message from my wife saying she had forgiven me and would be coming home with the children. But by evening I still hadn’t heard from her. I knew right then that my marriage was over. I hadn’t eaten for the whole day.

  At around 8pm my cell phone rang. I looked at the screen, wiping away tears as I did, sure that it was my wife finally calling. But it was one of my uncles. And he wasn’t the least happy.

  He wanted to know what was happening. He had heard I had threatened to kill my wife and she had left me. Amidst tears, I explained what had happened, nothing but the truth. I begged him to go and apologise to my wife’s family on my behalf. Being a strict type, he told me he was insulted by my request. He rebuked me and ordered me to come to his home the following morning.

  I couldn’t sleep that night. I felt the whole world was against me. I’ve never been much of a drinker in my life, but that night I found myself repeatedly toying with the idea of going to one of the shebeens and getting sloshed beyond reason. Luckily enough finally a broken variety of sleep overtook me before I rose to the idea.

  The following morning I woke up feeling groggy, sad, angry and frustrated. I didn’t even bother to brush my teeth. I simply got off bed and headed to my uncle’s, whose name was Deks.

  I found uncle Deks sitting by the fire with his wife. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. He told me my father and Jakes, my other uncle, were on the way. I felt like a criminal as I sat there with my uncle and his wife. It was obvious they were siding with my wife. I could feel it. They continued with their conversation like I wasn’t there, talking about this and that.

  My father arrived first, on his old Humber bicycle, looking morose and angry. He had two cars, but for some reason preferred to use the bicycle on that day. He wouldn’t even answer my words of greetings nor look at me.

  Shortly after he’d arrived, Jakes came in by scotch cart. Before he could even get off the scotch cart, he started giving me a piece of his mind.

  “Ngano, I never thought you were such a fool. How can you disappoint the family like this? What the hell would you want to kill your wife for? You’re full of shit. You need to be walloped really hard.”

  By this time he was standing over me. To be honest, I was expecting him to slap me. He was that type.

  “Jakes, please sit and let’s discuss this issue like adults,” said Deks.

  Jakes glared at me a little longer than necessary and clucked his tongue in annoyance before sitting on a homemade stool that had been waiting for him.

  A prolonged moment of silence before Deks said, “My nephew, tell us what happened.”

  I explained everything. I apologised and begged them to go and apologise to my wife’s family on my behalf. But there was no sympathy. It was obvious I was deemed guilty as charged.

  “You married your wife because you loved her, didn’t you?” said Deks, head bowed and finger jabbing the air in a downward movement to stress the point.

  “Yes, uncle, I did. And I still love her. Like I said I didn’t mean my words. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately and I regret taking it out on her. I’d never harm her.”

  There was a long moment of silence, presumably my words being mulled over. I had never been in court before, but I had a feeling this was what it felt like to be in one.

  My father and two uncles then took turns rebuking me further, repeating how stupid they felt I was to have threatened to kill my own wife. They didn’t seem to care about the tears in my eyes.

  Finally Deks said, “We do understand how you may be feeling. Despite all we’ve said, we do sympathise with you. We will do everything in our power to help you. We will talk to your in-laws. But understand, we can only do so much. If your in-laws don’t want her to come back to you, then our hands are tied. If she does come back to you, you’ll have to start behaving yourself. Any further threats, you’d have to forget about her and your children. We’d not support you anymore.”

  “Thank you. I love my family. Without my wife and children, I’d have nothing to live for. I promise I’d never harm her. I’d never threaten her in any way ever again.”

  No one responded. Only Jakes had his eyes on me. And the look on his face wasn’t great. It was accusing. I’d a feeling he would beat me to pulp if he had the chance.

  I was dismissed and the three headed towards the eastern side of the village, where my in-laws resided. I walked back home, resisting with difficulty the temptation to swing by the shebeen and drink beyond reason. I felt there was hope.

  To make a long story short, late that afternoon my wife and children returned home, accompanied by my father-in-law and her uncles. I cried when I saw them. Josephine flinched when I tried to pick her up to give her a hug.

  “It’s alright Josephine,” my wife said. Only then did she relax and let me pick her up. She cried on my shoulder.

  My father- and uncles-in-law smiled. I guess they could see the love that reigned in my household. They could see for themselves that I hadn’t meant my words when I threatened to kill my wife. That in itself gave me some level of comfort.

  The general atmosphere was relaxed. No more accusing looks and the likes.

  I had never even thought of threatening my wife since.

  And now she was missing.

  I didn’t want to jump to conclusions or anything, but it was possible those two goons were not only after my life, but my family’s as well, and they had my wife and children. Or maybe it was nothing but coincidence that they went missing just around the same time after an attempt had been made to abduct me? Maybe my wife had mulled over the death threat and decided to take it seriously again and decided to go back to her family, for good this time?

  M

  y father-in-law had been rich at some point. He had apparently owned a thriving small shop when he was

  living in Lentsweng town. He saved enough money to buy a number of cattle and build the family a large house upon his return from Lentsweng. It had four bedrooms and a veranda where the family preferred to spend the afternoons. That’s where I found my fatherin-law and mother-in-law the following morning. They were having breakfast. I became increasingly apprehensive as I came into the yard, expecting the knobkerrie to appear into the picture at any time. I looked around the yard, hoping to see signs of my family. But there were none. And my parents-in-law looked confused as I approached. Which could only mean one thing: my wife and children were not here.

  I greeted them. They answered, but I could sense some tension. My father-in-law must have seen the perplexed look on my face because he suddenly stopped eating and said, “Are you okay?”

  I couldn’t contain my emotions. I simply let go and bawled like a baby. My parents-in-law were shocked at my behaviour. My mother-in-law suspended her chewing and eyed me in awe. Then she panicked, stood up and came to stand next to me. She seemed to be at a loss as to what to do. She helped me to a chair.

  They let me bawl, shocked looks plastered on their faces.

  When my bawling reduced to mere sobs, my father-in-law said, “What happened?”

  I went back to bawling, but managed to control myself long e
nough to say, “My wife and children are missing.”

  My father-in-law’s face took on different expressions. Shock. Disbelief. Anger. Then an accusing look. Just when it was obvious he was about to say something, I told them everything from A to Z, leaving out the murder I’d witnessed. I’d hoped they’d sympathise with me. But instead the accusing look on my father-in-law’s face intensified and spread on to my mother-in-law.

  “I don’t understand this. Why did you not tell us yesterday?” said my father-in-law.

  “I told the chief and a search party, of which I was part of, was sent off.”

  “Hang on a minute. Are you talking about my daughter or the chief’s daughter here?” said my father-in-law.

  I looked at him blankly and said nothing. Of course I should have told them yesterday. But yesterday I wasn’t thinking properly.

  “Just in case you forgot, Margaret is our daughter, not the chief’s. So we, as her parents, deserve to know first if she goes missing. I feel insulted and demeaned by your actions. What I suspect is, you finally carried out your threats and killed her, and possibly the children.” He stood up and towered over me. He was a tall man. He pointed a finger at me and said, “Tell us the truth: did you kill our daughter?” His look was intense. He was murderous. One wrong move and he would kill me. That was for sure.

  My emotions got the better of me once again and I let go.

  “No, I didn’t. I love my wife and children. I need your help in finding them. Some people tried to abduct me. I’m not lying to you.” I sniffled.

  My father-in-law backed off and said, “You better find them by end of today. If you don’t do so, I’m going to the Police. I’m going to tell them you killed my daughter and grandchildren. And you’ll pay for that dearly.”

  He clucked his tongue in obvious annoyance and disappeared into the house, banging the door behind himself as he did.

  I was hoping my mother-in-law would be more sympathetic and would be on my side. I looked at her with pleading eyes, my eyes flooded with tears. But there was a deadly combination of venom, anger, annoyance and hatred on her face. She clucked her tongue and said, “You’ll pay for this if indeed you killed our daughter. I’ll personally make sure you do.” “I’d never kill…”

  “Please, get out. Go and find them. Now.” “Please, listen to me. I didn’t…”

  She disappeared into the room where my fatherin-law was and banged the door behind her.

  “So what do we do with the body?” said Dumani. This was the third time he’d asked this question. Thabang was fully awake but he wasn’t answering. Dumani was driving with the right hand while trying to find a radio station with the other. It seemed, though, the van’s radio wasn’t working, but Dumani still kept on trying. Sometimes you got lucky with these things. He stole a glance at Thabang and couldn’t help it but smile to himself. The guy had his gums bared to the maximum and was massaging the ones from which he last lost teeth with his right index finger.

  “Look man, I know I messed up. I brought the wrong guy. But think about it: there was nowhere I was going to catch our real victim. You saw how fast he was on his feet. I don’t think this is the right time to be blaming each other. We’re together in this. We’ll need to cooperate for this deal to pull through. What happened to the team spirit?”

  Thabang clumped his gums together, winced in pain, and said, “You messed up, Dumani. You brought the wrong guy.”

  “Hang on a minute. It’s not like I’m entirely at fault. You suggested bringing along the woman’s body. And now she’s our burden.”

  Thabang looked away and said nothing. “Thabang, I don’t think this is the right time to be accusing each other. We both messed up in one way or the other. So what we need to do now is to plan properly so we won’t mess up again. But first we need to get rid of the body. You heard what Damon said.”

  Thabang remained silent for a while before saying, “I know of a good place.”

  “What place?”

  “Where we can bury the body?”

  The two rode in silence, with Thabang speaking only to give directions. Dumani had given up trying to find a radio station.

  The “good place” was a secluded area of bush where Dumani, too, was sure no one will find the body if they buried it there. He stopped the van and the two got out and walked over to the back. A mild stench was emanating from the body. The two hauled it from the back of the van and dumped it on the ground. Thank God they had spades. Dumani got to work immediately and dug a shallow grave. Thabang didn’t even take part. All the while he just stood there yawning and scratching his crotch. Dumani decided he wasn’t going to bother the guy and kept on digging. When the grave was deep enough to his satisfaction, he said, “Help me bury the body.”

  Thabang glared at him and said, “You just don’t get it, do you?”

  “What?”

  “You can’t just bury the body. We’ve to cut it

  into pieces first.”

  “Who said?”

  Thabang ignored him and went to find a machetelike knife from behind the passenger seat of the van. He cut up the body in a way Dumani had never imagined anyone could do to a fellow human being. And every time he cut off a piece, he threw it into the grave.

  Dumani was tired. What he really needed right now was sleep. He hadn’t slept well for the past three days. Damon had hired him four days ago and told Dumani he would need help, that it would have to be somebody Dumani could trust. And Dumani could only think of Thabang. He’d tried calling Thabang, but his phone had been off. Dumani had thought the guy had left the country.

  Once he’d talked about looking for work up in Jo’burg. Or he could be in prison, or even dead. You never know with crooks, their lives are unpredictable. But then the following day Thabang sent Dumani a “Please call me back.” He’d called the moron back and he sounded drunk. There was noise in the background. Dumani told Thabang he needed to meet with him.

  Thabang met him the following day at the bus terminus, red eyes, grumpy and all. Initially he’d wanted to refuse to help Dumani. Dumani told him his life would change for the best if they did this job. Thabang had said yes. Dumani had gone back to Damon to tell him he had found somebody. Damon gave him the specifics, told him where they’d find the guy they were looking for and around what time, what he looked like, everything. Dumani had then gone back to Lentsweng to meet Thabang at a shebeen. He found Thabang just finishing up fighting, having won against a smaller chap with a twisted lower lip. They moved to another shebeen where Thabang won another fight against an elderly woman. They shared two cartons of Chibuku and got kicked out by the shebeen owner.

  Dumani proposed stealing a car for the job.

  Thabang knew just where to get one: right there in front of the owner’s yard.

  Thabang broke in and Dumani drove away. He’d told his wife he was going to Gabs and wouldn’t be back for three days, at most. During all this time, he hadn’t had any decent sleep as he had worried about many things, one of which was the possibility of getting caught.

  “Are you going to help me or what?” said Thabang, breaking an arm in half. The guy was doing it like he was breaking a goat’s leg, like he had done it many times before, like he wasn’t dealing with a human being. But what choice had they? Dumani didn’t mind getting caught driving a stolen car. He could explain his way out. He could lie. He could tell the cops — or the court — that he’d bought it off somebody and hadn’t known it was stolen. The worst that could happen was, he could end up spending a few months in prison, or be ordered to pay a fine. But to get caught driving a stolen car with a dead body in the back was something he definitely didn’t want. They would be tried for murder, and if found guilty — which Dumani was sure they would — they would be hanged by the neck until they died. Dumani cringed at the thought.

  “What do you want me to do exactly?” Dumani asked.

  “Start shovelling soil onto the grave. I’m almost finished here.”

  And h
e had. He was left with only one arm to deal with. The rest of the pieces were now inside the grave. The only problem was Thabang had blood all over him. If somebody saw him like that, no way was he going to get away with it. But then he could always say he had just finished killing a beast. Anyone would buy the explanation.

  Dumani picked up the spade and started doing as told.

  There was no way I was going home. I headed off toward my parents' house.

  They lived in the western side of the village in a small yard with a two bedroom modern house and two separate huts.

  I found them sitting by the fire inside the hut that served as kitchen. The fire was dying, a sign that they may have been about to go to bed. I greeted them. They must have sensed the panic in my voice because suddenly they were looking perplexed. I opened my mouth to speak but the tears beat me to it.

  "Get your act together and tell us what's going on!" yelled my father. He had always been like that. He believed tears were only meant for women and children. A man should never cry, regardless of the circumstances, was what he believed. I managed to control my emotions and told them what had happened.

  "Are you sure you're telling us the truth?" said my mother.

  "Yes."

  They asked me why I hadn’t told them the day before and I gave the same explanation I'd given my parents-in-law. Then there was silence, except for my occasional sniffing.

  "I'm afraid to go home," I said finally.

  The silence lengthened. My mother seemed to be musing. My father was preoccupied.

  "You can sleep here my son," said my mother finally.

  "Thank you, mother."

  My father stood up and went to the bedroom. My mother stood up to put things away, readying herself for bed. I sat on the floor, my mind in turmoil. Just before my mother left to go to the bedroom, she stood in the doorway and said, "My son, I trust you. But I hope you didn't kill anyone."

  "I'd never do anything like that. I love my family."