Of course Mama has noticed something. Nomtha also looks at me with concern. “Are you feeling unwell, Themba?”
I jump up and run from the hut. I take one of the discarded planks and hit it against an upright pole until the wood starts to splinter. Disturbed by the banging, the grumpy old man opens his door again and looks out curiously. Brandishing a piece of splintered wood in my hand I take a few steps towards him. There’s a brief flash of fear in his eyes before he slams the door shut again. He won’t say anything rude about Mama again – not while I’m around. From inside the hut I can hear her frail voice shouting incessantly, interrupted by spells of coughing: ‘Themba my boy, come here!”
I let the piece of wood drop and slowly go back inside. It is the one and only time that I can’t ho
