To read Part I click here

I got back in touch with my family. I had so many nieces and nephews to meet. Everyone wanted to hear stories about my life and what it was like living abroad for so long. We laughed together at how bad my Zulu had become. To make matters worse, my Mandarin wasn’t all that great either. While I was away, after my grandmother passed on they had to get rid of the house I grew up in. they couldn’t afford to maintain it anymore. The money I sent home was enough to support them, but the family was growing and everyone else was struggling to get out of the poverty I had narrowly evaded. I visited my grandmother’s gravesite for the first time. They bought her a beautiful tombstone. She would have liked it. I sat next to the head of the stone and asked her for guidance. I never expected any grand lights to appear or a booming voice to speak from within the clouds. But I hoped that somewhere within my soul I would hear a whisper. A whisper, hard to hear to the ear, but perfectly clear to the senses of the heart. I clutched my knees close to my chest and waited for a voice I knew wouldn’t say a word.

The elders in the family started to ask when they could expect a mokgonyana. All my cousins were married now. I laughed with them and told them the odds were slim. They smiled and one of my uncles spoke “I remember seeing a young man at your grandmother’s funeral. Nobody knew who he was. He wore the most beautiful suit I have ever seen! He said he was a friend of yours. Handsome, well-mannered young man. You should be with someone like that” they started trying to remember what his name was. They spoke about him a lot after the funeral and he came to the old house once in a while before they sold the place. “Was his name Fikile?” I asked, breaking my silence. “Ya! That one! You see, boys like that are rare my child. Not many of us meet them in our time, even less of us end up with them” my aunt said. I asked when last they saw him, they told me he found them just two weeks ago to see if they were okay. I hid my shock and smiled. The conversation moved on. I didn’t.

That night I called him, the number had been disconnected. My heart shattered. I set a date for my flight back to Hong Kong. There was nothing but pain and confusion here for me now. I decided I would send more money home every month and began gathering myself for the work waiting for me.

May fourteenth. The day before I was set to leave. I made one last trip down to Soweto to say goodbye to my family. Perhaps I would return someday, but I wouldn’t for many years. I had been stuck between two parts of the world for far too long. This was as good a time as any to choose where I wanted to be. My mind was made up. I left gifts behind for my nieces and nephews. Perhaps I would find a way to fall in love again in a way that fate agrees with. Maybe have a child or two of my own. Be happy.

I checked out of the hotel the next morning and made my way to the airport. Fikile wasn’t sitting next to me this time. Memories of the months I spent with him played over and over in my head all the way. The cab driver asked me what was wrong, he seemed unusually concerned. I didn’t understand it, he deals with quiet passengers every day, my silence shouldn’t be new to him. I told him I was fine. Nothing to worry about. I didn’t realise I had tears running down my face the whole time. I got my bags out of the cab and dragged them to the flight check in. “I can’t find your name on the system ma’am.” I handed the lady the proof of my booking. She looked at the computer for a while and looked up “this ticket was cancelled last week ma’am” I got annoyed. I wasn’t in the mood for little screw ups at the airport. I argued with her for a few minutes before asking her if I can go make another booking and come back. She told me the flight was full and the next available flight was the following week. I got out of her hair and booked another flight for the next week.

I got a phone call from a number I wasn’t familiar with. I answered it. I knew this voice. It was my boss, Mr Huang. “You can’t leave the country yet, there’s one last order of business you need to take care of. Go to the drop off zone outside the airport. There is a car with a driver waiting for you there. He will take you where you need to go” I was flustered. “Why couldn’t you have told me this sooner? What am I supposed to…” he hung up. I went to the drop off zone and his driver took my bags and escorted me to the car. I asked him where we were going and he just gave me an address. It was all the information he had and as a driver I honesty couldn’t have rightly expected him to know anything more. We arrived at an office park in Randburg. I noticed a big familiar sign on the wall “Mhlongo Construction”. Fikile’s company owned this place. A little more off balance, I asked the driver what was going on. He ignored me and addressed the security guard at the entrance. “We’re here to see Fikile Mhlongo, Nontobeko is in the back.” What business do we have with Fikile? And why am I being referred to by my first name? I was very upset and confused. The place was huge. Fikile hadn’t just managed to keep the business his father left him alive. He expanded and diversified it. Built an empire. I saw signs for “Mhlongo Property” and “Mhlongo Engineering Solutions”.  The driver dropped me off at a large, empty looking block of offices. He told me to go in and ask for Fikile. I walked in and before I could say anything, the receptionist, seemingly the only person in the building, walked right up to me “Nontobeko? Follow me. He’s waiting upstairs in the boardroom.” I followed her and she led me towards a large room on the top floor in the most easterly corner. The room would make a great office but was not big enough to be a boardroom. She told me to walk in and left. I could see the silhouette of a man behind the frosted glass walls and door. I walked into the room. I saw a man in a dark grey suit. He was not Fikile. I was slightly disappointed, but he looked familiar. “I’ve been waiting for you for a while now, was there traffic? The gridlock in this country is a nightmare, isn’t it? However, I suppose living in the building I work in has made me particularly irritable to sitting in traffic.” I didn’t have to see his face to know who he was. This was Mr Huang. What was he doing here? “There is an envelope on the desk” he faced me. “I hope it tells you everything you need to know. You were always one of my favourites…” he left the room. I stared at the envelope for fifteen minutes trying to figure it all out. Eventually I opened it. There was a letter. A letter written in a handwriting that I know. A handwriting I remember…

“Dear Nontobeko

I’m not much of a letter writer but I thought I’d give it a shot just this once. For years I’ve been wondering how I could have made you stay all those years ago and when I got your letter I thought you were coming back for good. After I left the hotel that night I decided I wouldn’t let you leave without trying to stop you this time…”

Also in the envelope was the title deed to my grandmother’s old house in my name along with a few other papers. One was a copy of an equity sale agreement. Fikile had sold forty nine percent of Mhlongo Construction to my investment banking firm. With such a large investment in the country we would need a local office and probably an entire investment outfit here. The last paper in the envelope was a letter from Mr Huang. It was a job offer. I would become the head of Huang Investment Group Africa. The letter also mentioned that the empty block of offices I was standing in were Huang’s new base. I am standing in my new office, and I swear that somewhere in my soul I can hear a whisper. Hard to hear to the ear, but perfectly clear to the senses of the heart.

“The driver is outside waiting for you… maybe we can watch movies at my place tonight. Come find me

With Love

Fikile”