Читать книгу Untitled - Kgebetli Moele - Страница 9

Dad

“I missed you grow up.”

Our first meeting, we didn’t talk much to begin with; he just looked at me. Although he didn’t look much like the man in the photos that I have, he was that man, just well nourished. I was so completely overwhelmed that slowly tears made their way out of my eyes.

“Mokgethi.”

That was the best tone in which anyone had ever said my name. He gave me a hug and “Hoo!” I exhaled, losing myself completely. I felt love, loved. I felt safe, safer than ever and more secure than I had ever felt before.

“Mokgethi.”

I held my breath as the moment went by in milliseconds. He let go and the reality that he was going to leave soon hit home.

“How are you? You are so grown up, my dear.” He looked me in the eye, wiping away my tears. “Do not cry, my dear. Do not cry. Your friend said that you needed a fatherly hug.” He looked at me again, trying to regain his composure, fighting his own tears. “Where is your grandmother?”

“She went to work.”

“Let’s go for a ride, my dear.”

On our drive he asked me question after question.

“What do you want to do after matric?”

“Study further.”

“Study further? Studying what?” He glanced at me, not willing to take his eyes off the road.

“Actuarial science.”

Then he asked what actuarial science was and what an actuarial scientist does. He smiled at my explanation, obviously happy with it.

“Where do you want to study this actuarial science?”

“Oxford University.”

“Oxford University?”

“Yes.”

He took his eyes off the road, not just stealing a look but really looking at me. “And who is going to pay for this?”

“I am hoping to get a scholarship.”

“How?”

“My grades are going to do it for me.”

“But why do you want to go to Oxford?”

This is the question I expect whenever I talk to anyone about studying at Oxford University and I have my reasons why.

“Because from there I can go anywhere in the world and not be confined to a specific country.”

He looked at me again and then back at the road, holding a smile.

“Let your grades talk for you, my dear. Maybe they can make me sell this car for you.”

“Maybe? Maybe, on what level?”

“What do you mean?”

“Three A plus, four A plus, five or six?”

“I said maybe, my dear Mokgethi.” He paused. “And what is your grandmother saying about all of this?”

“She does not want to hear about it. She is saying that I am going to nursing college because she does not have any money.”

“No way. Education has no price. It is as one’s life: priceless.”

I smiled at this; at least my dad understood my position. Then he asked about the family.

“Did they ever tell you about me? Did they ever say anything about me?”

“Not much and when I ask it spoils everything because they don’t want to talk about you.”

“Did they ever tell you why they hate me?”

“No.”

“Do you know that they hate me?”

“No, but I once heard my aunt saying that we are the children of a snake, and I know that my uncle chased you away one day when you wanted to see us.”

“She told you that you are the child of a snake?”

“She was angry and shouting at Khutso.”

Then silence fell on us. I felt like asking “Why do they hate you so much, Dad?” but something stopped me and so we covered distance in silence instead. Finally he said:

“One day they will tell you about me, about why they hate me, but if you want to know the truth, come ask me, because I was there with your mother. They were not there. You were there too but you were too young to remember anything. But they were not, and what they think they know comes out of hurt and anger at other things.”

There was nothing I could say to this so silence fell on us once more.

“How is Khutso?”

“He is fine.”

“Give him a hug and tell him that someone who loves him said ‘I love you’, but do not tell him anything more than that.”