What Holds Us Steady
1282 Words
Genesis POV
“Of all the cousins and siblings I have, it can only be you, GiGi…”
I heard the familiar deep voice behind me. I didn’t even have to turn to know it was Rorisang.
I faced him, and he was already smiling, arms wide open.
“Hey, Bro. I don’t know… I guess trouble just likes me,” I said as I stepped into his hug.
“When did you get here?” I asked. I hadn’t even heard his car. I’d been so lost in thought, staring at the vast land after noticing the cattle had already been released for the day.
He nodded toward the empty kraal. “I’m the one who released them. Papa called last night — said the windmill’s broken again. So I drove straight here.”
I glanced toward the windmill. “How many times this week? Five?”
He laughed. “Am I really that useless? It’s twice!”
“Figures,” I teased. “Didn’t know electrical engineers major in ancient windmill repair.”
He bumped my shoulder. “Hey! I’ve been fixing this thing with Papa since I was in diapers!”
“And that’s exactly why it keeps breaking,” I shot back.
He gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? You’re the one who hit it when you first started driving!”
“The truth hurts, Gigi,” he added smugly.
We both laughed as we walked toward the windmill.
When we arrived, a few workers were already repairing it.
“Dumelang, bagaetsho!” I greeted them.
They responded warmly.
Rorisang leaned against his bakkie. “Seriously though, we need a permanent solution. We can’t keep depending on something this unreliable. It’s bad for us and worse for the livestock.”
“As the family engineer,” he continued, “I’ve proposed better solutions. Your grandfather rejected all of them.”
“All of them?” I asked.
“Generator — too expensive. High maintenance. Too noisy.”
I folded my arms. “What about solar? Didn’t you say your company is moving toward green energy?”
He smirked. “You’re my favourite cousin for a reason.”
“We both know that’s a lie,” I said.
“Solar could work,” he admitted. “But we’d still need a backup for rainy days.”
“Then start with solar,” I said. “Convince him properly. Present it as long-term savings.”
He grinned. “When are we signing the contract?”
“Don’t even think about running to !Nari to lobby for you,” I warned.
He laughed. “Grandma always gets things done.”
It was true. If anyone could move mountains — or stubborn husbands — it was her.
We stood there for a while, talking about his projects and life in general. It felt normal. Safe.
Then he grew quiet.
“So,” he said carefully, “are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”
I hesitated.
Instead of answering, I asked, “When are you settling down?”
He recoiled. “Did my mother send you? She’s been campaigning for grandchildren!”
I laughed.
Then I looked toward the open field and said softly, “The Wrights arranged a marriage alliance for me.”
Silence.
“They what?” His tone changed instantly. “Are they out of their minds? It’s 2024. Who still does that?”
“My maternal family,” I said, finally meeting his eyes.
He ran a hand over his face. “Is that why Grandpa was furious last night?”
“Probably,” I said. “Or maybe because you’re trying to rob him with your fancy generator models.”
He snorted.
Then his expression softened. “Is there a way out?”
“Knowing them?” I sighed. “There’s paperwork. Contracts. And if this collapses, my mom will carry the guilt if her parents lose everything.”
He looked at me with something close to helplessness.
“Want me to fake documents and smuggle you out of the country?” he offered lightly. “I know a guy who knows a guy.”
I laughed. “That’s a long chain of guys.”
We stood there a moment longer.
“Let’s go back,” he finally said. “I’m hungry.”
The workers finished up with the windmill, and we headed back.
But even as we walked, I knew this wasn’t something that could be fixed with a wrench.
___________
Third Person POV
Mothusi and his wife, Celeste, arrived home just after seeing her parents off.
He went straight to his study.
He didn’t trust himself to look at his wife.
He knew it wasn’t her fault. He knew she was caught in the same storm. But right now, the only thing he felt was anger — not at her, but at the fact that his daughter was being moved like a chess piece on the Wright family’s board.
When it came to his children, Mothusi drew a line.
And Genesis — loud, confident Genesis — was the one he worried about the most. She walked through life like she had everything handled, but he knew better. She felt everything deeply.
He checked the time on the wall and exhaled slowly.
Then he picked up his phone and dialed.
“Hey, Sweet Pea…” he said the moment she answered.
“Hi, Dad…”
“You okay?” he asked after a brief silence.
“Yeah, I’m fine. !Nari told me how the meeting went.”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course she did. I’m sure she added extra drama.”
Genesis laughed softly. “You know your mother way too well, mister.”
There was a pause.
“How is she?” Genesis asked quietly.
He knew exactly who she meant.
Mothusi pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair.
“She’ll be fine,” he said gently. “Though… she had quite the outburst after we left. I’ve never heard her speak to her mother and brother like that before.”
He allowed himself a small smile.
“I think she finally snapped.”
Genesis gasped. Her mother had always been reserved — careful, composed, obedient in front of her family.
“Well,” Genesis said after a moment, “they deserved it.”
Mothusi laughed — a real one this time.
“I didn’t call to discuss family drama,” he said. “How was your day?”
“It was okay. I spent it with Rorisang. Oh — and you really need to sort out the water problem at the farm.”
He shook his head, amused. “Why do I have an engineer nephew and a sharp-minded daughter if I still have to find solutions myself?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know your father,” she replied. “Getting money out of that old man requires a full presentation and a miracle.”
Mothusi laughed again.
She wasn’t wrong.
His father only approved expenses that clearly benefited him. If something could be fixed cheaply, that was always his preference.
They talked a little longer — about small things, normal things — as if nothing monumental was looming over them.
Then his youngest child knocked on the study door.
“Dad, dinner!”
“Alright, Bonny,” he called back.
“Bye, Sweet Pea,” he said into the phone. “Dinner time.”
“Bye, Dad.”
He ended the call and sat there for a few seconds longer before standing.
For the first time that day, he felt slightly lighter.
Genesis was still laughing.
And that, for now, was enough.
- Writer
