“And you pay her for that?” Asks Ausi Maggie with obvious sarcasm.
“My wife pays her for doing the house work”.
“And you pay her for spying on your wife!”
“Heela, ema pele, wait a minute, who said anything about spying on my wife. All I said was that the maid tells me exactly when my wife comes home...”
“Ya, but where does she get the goddamn guts to do that? How on earth does she just come up to you and tell you all these details? Who gives her the right to do that?” Asks Ausi Maggie rather loudly.
“Look, she is just the maid and I ask her things and she tells me, that’s all!” responds Tshini looking away. And then he turns sharply and looks her straight in the eyes, saying, “what’s all this about anyway? Is this about me or is it about my wife, heye?”
Ausi Maggie looks down briefly, and she lifts her eyes as calmly as she does her voice. “Its about you and your maid!”
“Heish, waitse! This is so bloody typical of you women. I come to you crying about my wife, and then you turn the whole thing around and you accuse me of screwing my maid!”
“What? Hang on tlhe ntate! We are not there yet! I seriously think you are paranoid. How on earth do you come to that conclusion?” demands Ausi Maggie with very little restraint.
“Because I know you Maggie, and I know women...”
“You claim to know women, you think you know me... but you don’t know your wife!”
“I don’t know my wife? Ware I don’t know my own wife?”
“Yes, your own wife, the one you think you own!”
“Waitse wa peka jaanong! How can I not know my own wife, heye? How can I not know her when we have been together for more than ten years?”
“Ok,” says Ausi Maggie, looking around the room for logic and calm, “who is she? Who is she and why does she come home late?”
Tshini gets up from the stool around the high kitchen table on which there are two bottles of cognac and one of red wine. Only one of the cognac bottles is full, the wine is only half full because Ausi Maggie drinks her cabernet sauvignon very slowly, savouring every sip.
“I won’t have this,” he says, closing the empty bottle. “I won’t have this at all! I cry on your shoulder and you make fun of me. You make me sound foolish and irresponsible and that really hurts me! It really does, coming from you.” His voice is shaking uncontrollably as he fiddles with his glass on the table. He turns his back and is about to leave when Ausi Maggie holds him by the arm and pulls him gently, but firmly, back to the table.
“I’m sorry tlhe rra. I am so sorry. Please sit down re fetse go bua.”
Tshini finds his seat again, and Ausi Maggie continues talking.
“You are right, I am out of order. I guess I am the one who is paranoid. It was just too close to home. I have experienced it, but I have no right to accuse you of anything without any proof. But you know why, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do know why,” responds Tshini, taking a sip.
“Ever since that time, I have become so suspicious, so paranoid because it happened right under my nose and I did not notice anything. Not a single thing. How could they, right under my very nose, right infront of my children. That man has no pride, no dignity, otherwise he would not have dared in my house. Its my house, you know, wena Tshini. I bought it with my own money, selling liquor so that I can raise a family with a husband. And what do I get for all my troubles? And what do I get for allowing her to live here under my roof to look after my kids?”
Ausi Maggie is clearly distraught. Tshini, without looking at her, avoiding her eyes which he knows have pooled with tears because her voice tells him so, gently pours her another half a glass of her rich red wine.
And then Ausi Maggie sniffs and clears her nose. Then she smiles and through that laughter of hers that reverberates around the walls of the shebeen Nitty Gritty, telling everybody that “everything is going to be alright again tomorrow, Jack,” she says, mockingly:
“I employed the bitch to look after my kids, and she looks after my husband! I ask her to clean my house, and she cleans me out of my home!”
