It was a Saturday morning in the suburbs of Gauteng, and Katlego was already in his gown, socks pulled high, a mug of Ricoffy in hand, surveying his kingdom like a true kasi veteran who had made it to the ‘burbs. His wife was in the kitchen trying to play music on the smart speaker.
So, Katlego has always considered himself young at heart. The type of guy that still wore the latest sneakers, a playlist full of Amapiano, Trap, and the occasional Kwaito hit when he was feeling like a taste of Kasi. He even knew all the TikTok dances… well, most of them. Okay, like two. Honestly, maybe he knew what they looked like, but could never do the actual dances himself. But in his head? He was one of the laaities.
I always thought having kids meant growing the family, building a legacy, and ensuring my genes survive. What I didn’t realise is that I had signed up for my very own homemade investigative unit—my personal Hawks, my in-house SIU. They don’t take bribes, they don’t rest, and worst of all, they don’t forget.
Wives make a king-size bed feel like a single bed. Katlego loved his wife. But every night, he found himself fighting for survival in what should have been his peaceful, king-size slumber. It was a warzone. A battlefield. A place where he was reduced to clinging onto the edge of the mattress like a chancer hanging onto a moving Metrorail cart.
Katlego knew the moment he stepped into the house that the war had begun. The scent of Domestos hit his nose like a warning shot. The floors were so shiny he could almost see his future reflected in them—one where he was constantly being yelled at for existing in the newly cleaned home.
Katlego knew the moment he stepped into the house that the war had begun. The scent of Domestos hit his nose like a warning shot. The floors were so shiny he could almost see his future reflected in them—one where he was constantly being yelled at for existing in the newly cleaned home.
It all began the day Katlego became a father. His son, arrived into the world screaming like an audience member on Rea Tsotella. As a first-time parent, Katlego was on high alert. Every sneeze, hiccup, or cry from Junior sent him spiralling into a Google rabbit hole. Was it colic? An allergic reaction? A spiritual calling? Katlego didn’t know, but one thing was certain—everyone else around him did.
Katlego was tuned in to the 7 pm news when he heard the invitation for Afrikaans-speaking people to take refuge in America. He thought to himself, “This is South Africa! Surely as a light-skinned guy, with an Afrikaans-speaking wife, and a brown envelope… I could probably make it too.”
Katlego had no idea what he was getting himself into when he decided to host a simple “Bring & Braai.” It was meant to be an easygoing afternoon, just a few friends, good meat, and even better vibes.
It was a crisp Saturday morning in Ga-Rankuwa, and the Thulare family had gathered in their best suits and traditional attire to represent their son, Katlego, at the lobola negotiations. You could see his crisp haircut was fresh out of Legends Barber. Spirits were high, and so was Uncle Jabulani, who’d been “warming up” with a bottle of Savanna Neat since sunrise.
