This is a collection of stories and links that Baeletsi Tsatsi wrote under the Naane le Moya banner in 2016.
Sarah knew exactly who he was. Christopher Tinibu, the man who broke her heart five years ago. The man who promised her a train where there was no railway, the man who promised her marriage and children, the man who promised her a fairy-tale with a happily ever after.
The test results diagnosed me with leukaemia. And because we had taken so long to bring my symptoms to the doctor’s attention, this meant I immediately had to undergo treatment. My mother cursed herself for not paying too much attention to it and just dismissing it as fever, while my dad didn’t know how to handle it.
Some days, Tshidi enjoyed hearing those stories, on other days she pitied her grandmother for not having the ability to let go and on other days, she resented her grandfather for hurting her grandmother by leaving him for their closest neighbour.
My mother never called me by my full name, Kgalalelo, she never even called me by my nick name, Kgali, she introduced me to all her fancy friends as K, and even her husband knew me as K.
“If your intentions are to kill me, then go ahead. You will forever be haunted by the thought of it. You killed a man who did nothing to you, your thoughts will forever remind you,” Mike said slowly
“My first child is a girl,” he started, “who I love dearly but my wife is expectant and the women of vision say it will be a boy. My fields have dried up, even crows do not bother to fly above them. My cattle have died and the remaining ones do not care about survival. My wife is about to give birth and I cannot allow myself to welcome my heir into a world that bears no fruit. Please honourable chief, I appeal to the man in you who knows the honour and respect that comes from having an heir, a son to call your own, please consult with the Moroka,” he said.
Photos by Hazel Fasaha Tobo unless stated otherwise.