FROM PAP AND TEARS TO MANSION AND CAR'S

MY FIRST R1500 AT SEA POINT

EPISODE 3

For the next six days, nothing happened and I started to think that Sipho was right when he said I was lazy and I would fail. Every night after putting Amahle to sleep on the small mattress we share in our RDP house in Khayelitsha, I would clean the small table, arrange my four wigs nicely, put my phone on top of two bricks, and open t****k Live. My background was the same cracked wall with a calendar from 2023 that Mama Dineo had sent from Eastern Cape. The lighting was bad because we only have one small yellow bulb that flickers when the wind blows. I would smile and say, "Hello my sisters, welcome to Nthabi Wigs, today I have beautiful wigs from Bellville, free delivery in Cape Town." But no one was buying.

Only a few people would join. Sometimes five people, sometimes ten people, but they would just watch for two minutes and leave. Some girls in the comments were rude. One girl from Cape Town said, "Sister, your wigs look fake, and your background looks like a toilet." Another one said, "Go paint your wall before you sell hair." I wanted to cry and close the Live many times. On the third night, I cried after ending the Live because I had used all my data and no one had bought. I had bought data for fifty rand from my neighbor's WiFi, and it was finished. I thought maybe Mr Kabir's wigs were not good enough, or maybe my face was not pretty enough to sell wigs. I even thought about returning the wigs to Mr Kabir in Bellville China Town and telling him that I failed.

But on the fourth night, Lebogang called me from her salon on Long Street. She was closing her salon and she asked me how business was going. I told her that no one was buying and that I wanted to give up. She shouted at me again, the way only a best friend can shout. She said, "Nthabiseng, you think Canal Walk Mall was built in one day? You think women who sell at Greenmarket Square in Cape Town CBD make money in one day? No! They hustle for months before people trust them. Your mistake is you are selling wigs like you are begging. You are saying please buy, please buy. No! You must sell like a rich woman from Clifton. You must wear the wig yourself, you must walk, you must show them you are beautiful even in a shack in Khayelitsha. Tomorrow you must wear the blonde one and go Live."

I listened to her. The next day I woke up early, bathed Amahle, and before Sipho came back from driving his taxi from Khayelitsha to Bellville, I wore the long blonde wig that Mr Kabir gave me. I looked in our small broken mirror and I could not believe it was me. The blonde wig made me look like a different woman, like those Coloured girls I see shopping at Bayside Mall in Table View. I felt beautiful for the first time in five years. Sipho had never told me I was beautiful, but that blonde wig told me I was beautiful.

That night I went Live again wearing the blonde wig. I was more confident. I was not begging, I was modeling. I was walking in my small house like I was walking at the V&A Waterfront. And then something magical happened. On the seventh day, a lady with a username @CapeTownGirl_88 commented, "Sis, how much is the curly black one behind you? I love it." My heart stopped beating. I thought it was a joke. I said, "It is eight hundred and fifty rand my sister, free delivery in Cape Town tomorrow." She said, "Okay, I stay in Sea Point near the promenade. Can you deliver tomorrow at twelve? Send me your Capitec number, I will send money now."

My hands were shaking so much that I could not type my Capitec number. I had to write it on a paper and read it slowly. She sent eight hundred and fifty rand immediately. Eight hundred and fifty rand! I screamed so loud that Mama Zanele from next door came running thinking someone was beating me. I showed her my phone and we both jumped up and down in my small house. It was my first sale ever in my life. Not money from Sipho, not money from SASSA, but money that I made with my own hands and my own mouth on t****k Live.

The next day I woke up at four AM. I ironed my best dress, wore my cleanest takkies, and took two taxis - from Khayelitsha to Cape Town CBD and then to Sea Point. Sea Point is a different world. It is near the sea, near the big apartments that cost millions, near the promenade where white people jog every morning and walk their big dogs. I had never been to Sea Point before except when I saw it on TV. I stood at Sea Point promenade with my black plastic bag holding the curly wig, feeling small but proud. The lady came. She was a beautiful Coloured lady who works as a nurse at a hospital near Green Point. She tried the wig, she loved it, and she gave me an extra fifty rand for transport. She said, "Sister, you are doing well. Keep going."

I took the taxi back to Khayelitsha with nine hundred rand in my pocket. I went straight to Mr Kabir in Bellville China Town and paid him six hundred rand for that wig. He was surprised to see me back so fast. He smiled and said, "I told you, you can do it." He then gave me six more wigs on credit because he trusted me now. That week I sold two more wigs to ladies who work at a restaurant at the V&A Waterfront. One lady works at a fish shop near the big wheel at V&A, and she wanted the blonde one I wore on Live. She paid nine hundred rand. By Sunday night, I had one thousand five hundred rand profit in my Capitec account. One thousand five hundred rand that was mine. I had never had that much money that was mine in five years of marriage.

For the first time in five years, I went to Shoprite at Khayelitsha Mall and I bought my own bread, my own milk, my own eggs, and my own Always sanitary pads without asking Sipho for money. I bought Amahle a small Barbie doll with yellow hair from Pep Store and she was so happy she slept with it. When Sipho came home that night from his taxi rank in Bellville, he saw the new wigs in the house and the Shoprite bags. He frowned and asked me in a harsh voice, "Nthabiseng, where did you get money to buy all these things? Are you sleeping with men from Long Street? Are you sleeping with Nigerians at Bellville?" He always thinks a woman can only get money from a man.

I looked him straight in the eyes for the first time in five years and I said, "Sipho, I am working. This is my business. I sell wigs on t****k. This is my own money. I did not sleep with anyone. I worked." He laughed loudly and said, "Your small business of fake wigs from Bellville? You think you are a businesswoman now? You will fail. You are lazy. You came from Eastern Cape with nothing. You will always be a dependent woman." He then went to sleep without eating the food I cooked. But that night, I did not cry. I sat on the floor and counted my one thousand five hundred rand again and again and again. I counted it until I fell asleep. I knew that this was just the beginning. I knew that one day I would count fifteen thousand rand, then one hundred and fifty thousand rand. I knew I would never beg again.

END OF EPISODE 3