I, The Ancestor

By Petros K Mbatha

After Khehla Mbatha, a former financial planner with a renowned Financial Institution having not had an easy life as a young man, finds himself at the crossroad of his life.

Something horrible had happened - an encounter which stirred long buried fears within him. - culture, religion and tradition shredding him to pieces...found himself face to face with his ancestor.

But it is Khehla who must ultimately decide whether to stay on the original nomenclature ‘status’ or not.

“the book would not have existed without the circumstances around me taking place. My story has its origins on events around me. I lay claim to any inaccuracies. However, my characters, their views, personalities and circumstances bear no relation to any of the parties in either of those cases.
This book pays tribute to my son, Malibongwe”Maverick Mali” whom without his passing, this book wouldn t have taken shape.”

MAY HIS SOUL REST IN PEACE.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Petros K Mbatha
• Release date: Jul 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463270981

Book preview

I, the Ancestor

Petros K Mbatha

Copyright © 2019 Petros K Mbatha

Published by Petros K Mbatha Publishing at Smashwords

First edition 2019

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Paintings and Writing by Petros K. Mbatha

Published by Petros K Mbatha using Reach Publishers’ services,

Edited by Vanessa Finaughty for Reach Publishers

Cover designed by Reach Publishers

P O Box 1384, Wandsbeck, South Africa, 3631

Website: www.reachpublishers.co.za

E-mail: [e-mail]

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

1. Below the Bread Line

2. Face to Face With My Ancestor

3. A Very Thin Line if There is Ever One

4. Shining Light Sliding Like a Mirage

5. The Enlightenment, At Last

Acknowledgements

To my children, Sthembile, Sphephile, Senzo, Njabulo and Mfundi Coach.

This is all for you.

I wouldn t have been a man i am today if it was not for you.

To Nalini, wouldnt have published this book if it was not for your input.

To the two individuals in my life who knew, and will always know my worth in this world, my father and my mother, Mzovele and Maleliya...salute !!!

Petros K. Mbatha

Chapter 1

Below The Bread Line

It looked like one of those Monday mornings with a not-so-bright sky hanging lazily above. Which reminded me, it was now autumn of the twentieth century, with a chilly wind blowing furiously. Colder winds indicated winter was around the corner.

Coal smoke bellowed up to the sky from some of the house chimneys. That was when I noticed how little I was wearing. A ragged T-shirt and unkempt or unwashed shorts.

Fumes of dust and smoke, unguided excesses from the nearby asbestos factory, spelt danger. The nearest hospital was St Mary’s Hospital, thirty-five kilometres away, run by the missionaries. If bitten by a poisonous snake, chances of survival were very slim.

The life of drawing water far away from pits or rivers was a thing of the past as taps replaced the long walk. However, it all came at a price.

Inhumane diseases that shaped our society today began then.

Sounds of trucks, the drill, the grind, explosions of dynamite, construction sites and a bit of fast life became the order of the day, which signalled the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. This stamped time as an interesting and valuable commodity, but polluted the mind.

The urgency in life s demands converted the mode of transport to what it is today. Trains and horses competed for top spot in a race for time at the expense of man, who, at the turn of that century, was robot-like.

Hence, a ninety-billion-rand-a-year black taxi industry was born. A dangerous servant for the urban poor masses. I do not think Naspers, AB In Bev SA, Richemont, British American Tobacco and many others care.

The robot in man chased away ubuntu (an old notion of ‘I am because you are’). Man stopped considering the feeling of another. All sympathies lost. Trust lost. Critical thinking lost. Creativity lost and a mere common sense. Man forcibly slipped into the relative spatial thinking of robots. The death of Elaine Herzberg of Arizona by Uber’s self-driven car makes me think.

For me, I knew that I belonged to one of the biggest families of the time. In simpler terms, ‘big’ refers to a number of people residing in one small household called ‘four room’, given to my father, my maker, Mzov, his wife, Leliya, and nine children, by the government of the day.

Forced removals were rife. The removal of people from their rural farms in and around Pietermaritzburg signalled one thing and one thing only: the end of living under chieftaincy rule and its authority. Which meant chiefs themselves became subordinate to the rule.

South Africa was in isolation, with its apartheid rule. Forced removal refers to