ZWELIBANZI - THE TAXI DRIVER

CHAPTER 03

ZWELIBANZI

After another day on the streets I finally got home and parked the taxi near our house , It's a small house but inside with warmth which grew me to the man I am today ,the same house who nurtured my little sister to the girl she is today , It's may not be a big house ,but with love care and survival everyday ? We try and make ends meets and make everyday counts ,just as am deep in my thoughts my sister comes running to me ,

"Bhuti " She screams with her small chicken voice , a voice which fill this heart of mine with so much happiness everyday ,a voice which makes me wake up everyday ,She then jumps up to me so that I carry her

"Mara Zinhle ,awuboni ukuthi ngikhathele ",I say as she plays with my hair ,she then looks at me and giggles ,Lord what can i ever not do for my little sister ? You will decide because as long as am breathing thought the streets ,I will provide her with everything she needs with time .

"Bhuti ,Mama cooked your favourite food today" she whispers as we go inside the house ,I haven't shown her the packet of chips I bought nearer here because she won't eat her food

"Mmm what did Mama cook "She calls Aunty "Mama" and we just let her be , I ask looking at her explaining herself like a criminal caught red handed ,after saying all she had said , I put her down and get inside the house where am met by my ever smiling Aunt

"Sawubona Anti " I say approaching the leather chair near her as she is busy at the kitchen ,

She's standing at the kitchen,arms folded, humming softly as if the walls themselves could listen. Her face is lined, not just with age but with years of worry and hard work, and yet there’s a quiet strength in the way she carries herself. She doesn’t say much, but I know everything she’s thinking ,how she’s silently counting every cent, how she’s silently praying that Zinhle and I survive another day in this world. To anyone else, she might seem stern, but to me… she is the anchor that kept us from drifting apart when everything else fell away. For a moment all the street chaos becomes a momentary history , because this is the place where I can rest ,just a little and where this cold heart learns to be soft again

"Ndodana usubuyile" She says with a big smile on her wrinkled face while looking at me

"Yeboh Mah sengibuyile "I answer as I take out my jacket

"Ujeqe nobhotshisi "She roughly says

I laugh ,I can only laugh when am around them ,apart from here ? I don't see myself laughing on the street ? The place only sees me as Zwelibanzi the coldest taxi driver but here at home am a brother ,a big brother and a nephew who tries everyday to make meaning out of life

As I was to ask Aunty about when she will be fetching her medication from the clinic ,Zinhle laughs, a sound so light it bounces off the walls, and I can’t help but grin a little, despite myself.

“Remember that time, bhuti,” she says, cheeks flushed with amusement, “when you tried to cook rice and nearly set the stove on fire?”

I groan, rubbing my face. “Sho, don’t remind me, Zinhle. I was hungry, and ek se, I had no idea what I was doing!”

Auntie chuckles from her spot by the stove, shaking her head. “You two are impossible. That day I thought I’d have to call the fire brigade before lunch!”

We all laugh together, the sound carrying warmth through the tiny kitchen. For a moment, the weight of the city, the chaos of taxis, and the coldness I wear every day vanish. We replay memories, teasing each other, remembering small victories and ridiculous mistakes, and in that laughter, I feel something rare: lightness.

Zinhle leans against me, her shoulder brushing mine. Auntie wipes a tear from her eye, smiling softly. And for the first time in a long while, I think that maybe, just maybe, moments like this are what make all the hard roads worth driving.