Baby Potion

After they married, Moleboheng and Tsepang were the image of the marital bliss she had always imagined. She baked every morning and filled their kitchen with a nostalgic sweetness. Moleboheng knew her way around the kitchen, and she had an especially good baking hand. A meticulous hand which always emerged from the flour bin with level scoops. A hand that could beat a mixture of eggs and butter, coaxing them into smooth submission. It started with lessons from her paternal aunt, who would visit her childhood home to share recipes from the grandmother Moleboheng never met.

“When you are a woman, you can make all these yummy treats for your husband and children just like your nkhono did.”

“Aunty? Do you make these recipes for Uncle, too?”

“That’s right, my girl.”

“And for ausi Mpho?”

“ When your cousin Mpho was younger, I taught her just like I am teaching you. She can make these herself now.. but only for herself…”

“…I don’t know who will marry that girl when all she cares about is her work. Money, money, money! That’s all she cares about!” Aunty said under her breath as she placed the baking tray into the oven.

Moleboheng carried the echoes of her Aunty’s words until she was married herself. She was a boisterous young wife who tended to her husband’s needs. On those slow Sunday mornings, Tsepang would join her in the kitchen to complete her picture of romance. He filled the kitchen with a cloud of flour as he tried to help, and they both giggled at the mess he’d made.

“Work your magic, my love,” Tsepang would say after a few minutes of lingering around the kitchen.

When the scones were done, Moleboheng left them on the counter for her husband to find. She listened for his reaction from the other room and waited for the compliment and the sweet peck on the cheek that followed. Bliss!

***

Tsepang was an entrepreneur who owed his success to the small fortune his father had amassed while working in the mines of Johannesburg. They met through a mutual friend and their little spark quickly turned into a flame and then a fire that engulfed Moleboheng’s whole life. She revelled in it. They married soon after. Lebo—as everyone called her—liked his boyish chivalry. Despite the weather, he would always drape his jacket over Moleboheng’s shoulders when they left a place. Tsepang introduced her to his family a year into their relationship. Mama, as they all called Tsepang’s mother, was a dark woman with long legs and an admirable posture. She was unlike the mothers-in-law Moleboheng had heard about from other women. During the first year of their marriage, Moleboheng and Tsepang spent the holidays with his parents for the first time. Because she had never lived with them as the tradition goes, she set an alarm, hoping to wake up early enough to clean the house and prepare the morning tea. She wanted to impress her in-laws and gain a place in their hearts. On the first night of that visit, she, Tsepang, his brother Ntau, and a few cousins stayed up drinking wine and playing cards. She missed her alarm and woke up in a panic over what Mama would think about her. Would this be the start of her tortuous mother-in-law tales? Lebo was lured out of her drunken slumber by the smell of fresh bread and tea that Mama had prepared for breakfast. She seemed unbothered that Lebo slept in, but Lebo spent the rest of her marriage waiting for the other shoe to drop.

***

Over the years, Mama’s quiet demeanour grew to annoy Moleboheng. Her mother-in-law spoke slowly like sticky webs of glue held her lips together so that every word was an agonising effort. It reminded her of how they would spread glue stick on their lips as children in primary school. Mama and Moleboheng had their share of disagreements throughout the marriage, and those usually ended with Mama retreating with an ‘ah okay’. What initially seemed like an elegant shyness eventually revealed a perpetual apathy. Mama, with her soft voice, responded nearly the same to everything. She took her time to speak and when she did, it was never what Moleboheng wanted to hear. One morning in August, Moleboheng called to tell her about their recent loss.

“Hello Mama, lekae.”

“Hei, we are well my girl. It’s just been a terribly cold winter, hasn’t it?”

“Yes…yes it has,” Moleboheng said as she watched the sky from their bedroom window. It was a bluish-grey that painted the rest of the day with an opacity that made it hard to accept that she’d lost the baby they had been trying so long to conceive. She caught sight of a leaf that clung to an otherwise bare tree. If the leaf hung on long enough, it may get a chance at reincarnation in the spring, only a month away. Like the leaf, she clung to the hope that this could be a dream until Mama’s voice on the other side nudged her back to reality.

“… yes Lebo. How…are you?

“‘Ma…It’s…the baby…”

Her voice disappeared into a quiet sob. There was another pause; the phone call was difficult for both of them. Heartbreaking for Lebo, who had to say words that she could hardly bring herself to believe. For Mama, it was difficult because the glue between her lips seemed even stickier when she needed to show up for anyone, especially Lebo. As graceful as she appeared, the woman did not have a single nurturing bone in her body.

“Oh! I am so sorry ngoan’aka! Oh, what a shame, oh, that poor little thing. You know, this has never happened in our family. Everyone knows the Taung seeds are fighters…Perhaps you need to see someone about that womb…”

Mama’s words landed on the messy pile of grudges Moleboheng had stored against her. After the call ended, she shuffled to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, then sat on the couch she and Tsepang had bought together a few years before, after Tsepang’s business had landed a big client. She scrolled through Facebook aimlessly, adding salt to the wound with every belly-cradling wife that paraded her feed.

Spring made its entrance, and Lebo welcomed less tearful days. On one of those days, she decided to visit her hairdresser. The salon held stories like an annoying but dear old relative who spoke to no end when given an audience. Even though she was not one for gossip, being in that place where stories of other people’s pain, trauma, and foolishness moved between bitter lips made her feel better.

“Bathong Lebo, uena esale u qetela ho tla salooning holaaa?” Lerato asked as she helped Moleboheng undo the rest of her old braids.

“Hei u tla ntlohella. I have been so busy, and besides, that’s what headwraps are for, right? Also, my hairline needed a break, please!”

“Lebo this is how it starts, you know… a woman letting herself go. First, it’s the hair, then…”

Lerato’s belly spilled out of her unbuttoned jeans as she said this.

What says ‘she’s let herself go’ more than those unzipped jeans? Lebo thought. She scoffed loudly instead.

“Hee! Girls, you should take this seriously! My sister recently found out her husband has been running around with a cute young thing. Poor girl, imagine she just had a baby! Men are disgusting. God forbid we show a little bit of imperfection, and they just run to the closest tramp!” Thembi was the one who gossipped like she meant well. Like it came from a place of genuine concern.

“Actually…”

“Don’t start lying to us now, please!” Moleboheng’s hairdresser retorted.

“No, for real, friend…there is this Chinese detox tea that my cousin was telling me about. It really works. Her skin is glowing, her waist. Yho, I am waiting for her to bring mine because I am not losing my man to these kids!”

“Ah re phela ka thata hle! Why do we work so hard to keep these men anyway? Is it even worth it anymore? You know… my friend can barely walk these days! Her back seizes up whenever she sleeps in their bed, and her legs sting! Her husband’s mist….found a strange bundle of… bewitched…”

The sound of a blow drier distorted Lerato’s story, but Moleboheng perked her ears and strained to hear more about the bewitching.

The women continued to exclaim at the dark secrets of marriage. As Lebo walked to the car with her fresh braids, she couldn’t help but think of the story of the bewitched woman. Could this be her diagnosis as well? The answer to their childlessness? The tests she had done with her gynaecologist before and after the pregnancy proved Mama wrong; she was not barren. Surely it was something else depriving them of the baby they so badly wanted. What tramp had Tsepang hopped into bed with, and how could he have been so irresponsible? Exposing them like that?

There was one night, a few weeks before they learned of the pregnancy, when Tsepang sweated passionately over her, and she caught a glimpse of what looked like a furry tail on his back.

“I should probably stop taking Ntau’s shady edibles,” she’d said to herself that evening.

This moment came back as Lebo pondered the possibility of bewitchment. Maybe whoever was doing the bewitching was making her see things in her husband that were not there. Maybe, it was a way to repel her attraction to him. Once she had convinced herself that witchcraft was a possibility, Lebo’s head conjured up every imaginable tale, culprit, and scenario where the witchcraft could’ve taken place. A curious rage brewed in her.

***

Tsepi was convinced that this healer was the real deal. After Lebo told her she’d lost all hope of having a baby and that her marriage was over, Tsepi suggested this healer who knew ancient medicine. It was now six years into Tsepang and Lebo’s marriage. Four years of actively trying, and all she knew was blood-stained sheets and the ghostly cherubs that haunted her dreams. At this point, she would try anything.

***

Tsepi reassured her friend the entire way.

“This nkhono is legit, friend; I promise she isn’t like all these new-age healers! She carries the wisdom of ages; she will help you figure this out.”

They drove South for three hours before reaching a long stretch of gravel right outside Mohale’s Hoek. This district was notorious for its bad roads and villages that lay like secrets between the mountains. Tsepi tried her best to navigate the gravel, but they reached a point where they had to leave the car and go on foot. As they got out of the car, Lebo stared down at her white sneakers against the dusty road and instantly felt like an imposter. They walked past a pine forest with a little red-bricked church perched in the middle of it. Beyond the forest and the church was a long stretch of fields surrounded by smaller hills that were occupied by ageing aloes. This place felt like the world’s far end, where modern technology forgot to reach. The faint sound of Famo music echoed in the air as they approached a village they later learned was called Makhaleng. They stopped for water and a snack. Tsepi had packed a selection of nibbles for the road, insisting that the shops would have nothing they liked. She was right.

“Gosh Tsepi, how did you even find this place?” Lebo asked her friend as the trek continued.

“Through an old family friend. I need to protect myself. The corporate world is riddled with little snakes, you know this. A girl’s got to stay ready!”

“I hear you!… Are we close?”

“We’ve arrived, actually.”

They stood at the foot of a hill. At the top was a small homestead with three or four huts neatly placed between an animal kraal and a small peach orchard. When they reached the top, they were greeted by a young, light-skinned woman with plump cheeks and a timid smile. Her cheeks were flushed pink, typical of people who lived in the highlands. The high altitude and cold, harsh air ripened their cheeks, giving them a permanent, earthy blush.

“Khotso Mme, re tlo bona nkhono ‘Mantsu,” Tsepi said.

“Oya ‘M’e,” the woman replied as she rinsed her hands. They had been drenched in the mixture of mud and cow dung she was using to plaster one of the huts. She led them to a bigger hut with an old blue door. The woman took her shoes off, knocked, and waited for a response. A deep, shaky voice answered from the other side, and the woman entered, signalling for Tsepi and Lebo to follow her.

In the hut, an old woman sat like a lifeless relic on a grass mat lined with thin blankets. The room was dim, with shelves of jars and old tin cans lining the walls. Lebo noticed some old plastic flowers in a corner and a white and red cloth covered one of the windows. The woman instructed them to sit down before she left.

“Khotso e be le lona bo ausi. It looks like you have come from far. How can I help you?

“Nkhono, leseli le khanya li be le uena. My name is Tsepi, and I have brought my friend who is having some troubles…”

The old woman nodded slowly as Tsepi spoke. There was a brief silence before Lebo summoned the courage to speak.

“Nna ke Moleboheng…” she said,her eyes to the ground. “Ke Moleboheng Moteane, kapo ‘Manthatisi Tau.”

She had always gone by her maiden name, and this other name that Mama had given her sounded strange as she said it. The tradition of a completely new name never made sense to her. The old woman hardly stirred on her mat, and then, after a thick silence, she batted an eyelid.

“Mmmm…Leseli ausi Tsepi le uena ‘M’e ‘Manthatisi.”

They were suspended in silence again, Lebo hadn’t seen someone this old before. Tsepiso stirred…

“Oh eya nkhono.” Lebo continued.

“I have come because I need help. I have been married for six years now, and every time we conceive, we lose the baby before we even get to hear their heartbeat. Please help me, I think I might be bewitched, I…”

Lebo would have carried on if the old woman hadn’t moved from her position to find a clay bowl on one of her shelves. Every movement was slow and intentional she also said very little so Lebo just searched the room with her eyes as she waited. The old woman mixed some herbs and lit up some phefo that was placed in a smaller clay bowl next to a candle and some other trinkets Lebo could not make out.

“I have seen something: a woman who has placed a veil over your marriage. She is working hard to make sure you never see the truth. You want the truth, don’t you?

“Yes! Yes, I do…”

“Okay, I will show you, but you need to be brave! You must be sure that you want to do this.”

“I will do whatever it takes,” Lebo responded, now excited by what was next, whatever was in the bowl.

The woman blew over the concoction of herbs, poured some water, and instructed Lebo to drink. She told her to hold the mixture in her mouth until she arrived.

Arrived where? Lebo thought. In the few seconds that Lebo nervously received the bowl from the old woman and looked into it, the room had filled with so much smoke she could no longer see anything around her. She drank the potion and held it in her mouth until she landed with a thud on the top of a roof.

The moon shone like a jewel in the sky, and as Lebo rubbed her eyes to make sense of what was happening, she almost lost her balance and stubbed her toe against one of the clay tiles that lined the rooftop. She knew this place, it was her in-laws’ house, well, the top of it. She recognised the old car parked across the yard and the distinct bark of his parent’s dog. The fear was masked by Lebo’s curiosity; why the old woman’s potion had brought her to her here. Was it a dream? If it was, it had to be the most lucid and detailed dream she’d ever had because her toe began to throb.

As she stood there, unsure of what to do next, she heard the door open and saw Ts’epang’s father emerge from inside. He walked a few steps, turned his head, and lifted his eyes to the roof. Lebo crouched in a poor attempt to conceal herself. Ntate—as they called her father-in-law—seemed not to notice her. He kept walking until he reached the far corner of the yard, where they kept a few sheep and one milk cow. Lebo watched quietly as Ntate took off his shoes and entered the animal kraal. He returned with a woolly leg in his mouth and the rest of the sheep carcass in his arms. A long furry tail, like the one she thought she had seen on Tsepang, trailed behind him. Before she could process her shock, Lebo was back in the hut where Tsepi and the relic healer drank tea. Delirious, she screamed and ran out of the hut, followed by her friend, who tried to calm her down.

“Tsepi, what just happened to me? And how could you be drinking tea right now!? This is crazy. I want to go home!”

“I know, friend, I need you to calm down, please. Let’s just take a breath and let nkhono tell us what just happened.”

The old woman was sitting back on her straw mat. She extended her hand forward, summoning Moleboheng to hold it, and said in her shaky geriatric voice…

“So… you have seen the truth.”

“What do you mean “the truth”, you drugged me! I dreamt my father-in-law was some kind of hybrid predator!

“It wasn’t a dream….”

“I don’t understand!”

“I simply gave you some transport, so you could witness the truth they have been concealing from you! You were there, you remember everything. You felt it all.”

At that moment, Moleboheng looked down at her big toe, which had a little speck of blood oozing from the nailbed.

***

When they finally got home the next day, Moleboheng got out of the car and told Tsepi she would call her. Months passed before she did.

Tsepang’s long legs hung from one end of the couch when she arrived. He had fallen asleep waiting for her. He hadn’t heard from Lebo since she said their ‘girl trip’ was going well the previous day. Her phone lost reception after that.

“Lebo?” Tsepang roused awake.

“Are you okay? What happened!?”

Huh? Oh, nothing! Nothing happened, love, I just lost reception out there. It was great. Really great.” she said quickly, leaving him before more questions followed. She peeled off her sweaty clothing and jumped into the shower.

Moleboheng never spoke about what happened in Makhaleng. There was no one to tell, and even if there was, what would she say? She didn’t quite believe it herself, and the only evidence she had of that night was a bruised toe.

***

It was Easter, and Tsepang had asked that they visit his parents for the long weekend because he was worried about his mother’s health. A few weeks before, she called, complaining about her chest.

It had been months since they lost the baby. Since the old healer, and Moleboheng’s landing on the roof. She hadn’t seen Mama since then and only said hello from the background when Tsepang was on the phone with her.

When they arrived, Mama was sitting in the kitchen on a rustic wooden bench, a family heirloom. A warm light reached through the window and landed right where she sat, making it look like Mama was in the spotlight of a Toni Morrison theatre adaptation. Ntate was out somewhere as he usually was. She welcomed them with her usual patronising laziness. Moleboheng greeted back and avoided eye contact. She put down the little parcel of groceries they brought with them and excused herself to go to the bathroom. From the other room, she heard Mama tell her son how she’d heard a loud thump on the roof of the house one night a few months ago. She was certain someone had sent a thokolosi to them to spy on them and do some kind of harm. These creatures were known to lurk in the night. As moms to do, she exaggerated her concern and continued to attribute her recent illness to this incident. Tsepang listened attentively, feigning concern for his mother until she said.

“Tsepang…Do you think Lebo might have something to do with this?”

“What—why—why would you think such a thing, Mama? My Lebo wouldn’t even know where to find a thokolosi, let alone send it your way.”

“I am just saying…I mean, she has been rather distant over the last few months…”

“Lebo wouldn’t do that, Mama.”

“Mmm. I mean, she is quite naive, that little wife of yours. Poor thing! I mean, six years, and she has never discovered what we are?”

“Mama, stop! Tsepang whispered to his mother. “What are you doing talking like that right now? This is not the time. Lebo can never know about us.”

That conversation went from infuriating to confusing. Everything that Moleboheng had seen was real. What did Mama mean by ‘what they are’? What were they?

The weekend continued like a daze for Lebo. She wandered the yard at some point, seeking evidence for what she had seen that night. Leftovers from Ntate’s predatory feast, perhaps? She found nothing, all the sheep were alive, and since she never paid attention to how many there were, she couldn’t do a head count. It had been eight months after all, they could have slaughtered a few since then or even added some to the flock.

They returned home, and things went back to normal. Whenever Tsepang was on top of her, in the oblivion of his desire, Lebo gazed beyond his sweaty back and his strong golden arms hoping to catch another glimpse of that tail. It never came. Her curiosity grew into frustration.

On her way to work one day, Moleboheng took the wrong off-ramp and drove three hours in the direction of Makhaleng. She made the long trek alone and arrived at the lone homestead where the healer and her daughter lived. When she arrived, she met the daughter with her sun-baked cheeks, followed her to the hut with the blue door, took off her shoes, and sat before the old woman. She looked like she hadn’t moved in the year since Moleboheng and Tsepi came to seek her guidance.

“Khotso nkhono! Ke Moleboheng!”

“… Ee! I remember you, my child. How have you been? Has the truth finally revealed itself? Has the baby arrived?”

“The baby? There is no baby. I need your potion to take me back to my in-law’s roof. I still have questions.”

“Moleboheng, my child, this medicine you are asking for is strong. It could open doors to a dark and confusing path.”

“I am confused enough as it is Nkhono! I need to know what I am dealing with. Who I am married to!”

The potion came in its clay bowl, dark as night, reeking of roots from all manner of plant life. Lebo took one big gulp, and as it hit the back of her throat, her face contorted from the bitterness, her eyes pinched closed, and she arrived. She landed on a shiny wooden surface. The polished finish could only be the diligent work of an ageing woman armed with Furniglos furniture oil. The smell sparked a brief nostalgia for Saturday mornings spent cleaning her mother’s house.

She had landed on Mama’s dresser, appearing as small as an insect in between the patterns of her white crochet doily. Across the room, Mama kneeled on one side of the bed, holding a small and aged leather pouch. She whispered something to this pouch, which, when Moleboheng strained her ears, became faintly audible.

“No child shall be born of their marriage…”

Lebo heard all she needed to know that her mother-in-law was behind her barrenness, yet this did not explain what she had seen. Her father-in-law morphed into some kind of animal. She didn’t care! Her disdain for Mama and the grief of her lost pregnancy silenced all the other questions. Maybe the stuff about Ntate and Tsepang was simply part of some kind of illusion, an intersection between the reality she was transported to. She left the bedroom and arrived back in Nkhono ‘Mantsu’s hut, knowing what she needed to do. She needed to protect herself and preserve her marriage. She loved Tsepang, they had been through a lot together. His mother had been the problem, the one who had cast a dark veil over their marriage, their dreams.

Despite the healer’s warning, Moleboheng insisted until she left the hut armed with a bag of herbs, instructions and the disdain to use them. She made the trek back to her car, the walk seemed shorter this time. She put her package in the passenger seat next to her, paused and stared at it before driving off. The voices in her head gathered around the intention. The relic’s words came to Lebo like a sounding board for the discussion that ensued. Moleboheng’s ego was bruised and unrelenting, it silenced the old woman’s words of caution. Her old age and short cryptic messages reminded Moleboheng too much of Mama, and she was convinced at that moment that older women clung to their power and used it to insidiously control her life. She would beat them at their own game. Flashes of her journeys from the relic’s hut came to her as she left the village in her rearview. Everything Moleboheng thought she knew about the world had changed in a year. She felt more powerful than the people who didn’t know, sorry for them even. Like she had been inducted into some kind of secret society and realised the rest of the world carried on like mindless sheep.

When she got home and noticed her in-laws’ old station wagon parked in the driveway, a lightning bolt of fear struck her chest. She took her package and shoved it into the glove compartment, took a deep breath, and pulled out her makeup bag. A quick wet wipe over her face, some lipstick, and mascara, a spritz of perfume on her neck and wrists. A woman with fierce eyes looked back at her from the pocket mirror. She admired this woman, a woman who didn’t care if Tsepang complimented her scones or if her mother-in-law sang her praises in conversations with her friends. She walked to the door, gave a light knock to alert them of her presence, and then walked in.

Ntate was watching TV in the living room, Tsepang looked back from inside the fridge, where he was fetching beers for him and his father. He smiled at his wife.

“Hey you. Good day at work?”

“Khotsong ka tlung. Yes, yes, it was good. How are you Ntate, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Ee.e morali. I am well. A beautiful home you two have made here. Well, Mama and I were in town today attending to some business at the pension fund, and we thought we could stop by.”

This was unusual. Moleboheng could count on one hand the number of times Tsepang’s parents had visited their house. Her family came from time to time, but their visits were infrequent. Moleboheng and Tsepang revelled in the privacy this afforded them. As she continued small talk with her father-in-law, Mama emerged from the direction of the bathroom.

“…hmmm. Lumela Lebo my girl…are you well?”

“Oh, I am well Mama, thank you. It is good to see you…”

A voice in her head continued this sentence… “you conniving witch!”

“Yes… yes. You too,” Mama responded from the kitchen, where she approached the kettle.

“Okay. Where do you keep your tea, please? After the day we had, my nerves could do with a warm cup—”

“No, no, Mama. Please allow me, you are our guest. Please sit, especially after the day you’ve had.”

Mama nodded and smiled the lazy smile that revealed the gap between her two front teeth- which was one of her more endearing features. And then she walked to the living room to join her husband and son.

Lebo switched on the kettle and went to the bedroom to change into something more comfortable. She remembered that her house slippers were in the car. This was a good excuse to fetch her package where she’d left it. She went to the car and back, then proceeded to set the tray and brew a special cup of tea for her dear mother-in-law. She brought the tea to Mama and sat with them, conversing about nothing, as usual.

***

On her deathbed, Mama called for Moleboheng and asked her daughter-in-law to sit beside her.

“I did it to protect you! I didn’t think you had the strength to stay in this family. Our world is different from yours Lebo. Soon, in my absence, you will learn that.”

Lebo gave birth to a baby girl shortly after her Mama died. One day, in winter, she noticed something protruding from her tiny bum when she was giving her daughter a bath. A tail. She knew for sure because it stuck out and stayed there for the rest of the morning. Her daughter was a colicky baby, and perhaps the discomfort made it difficult for the tail to conceal itself. Lebo picked up her phone to call someone about it. Maybe her friend Tsepi. She put the phone down after thinking what would happen next. She put the phone down then picked it up again to Google: “can human beings have tails?”

This was her baby after all, maybe she’d get used to it. At seven months old, the baby played in the backyard and the neighbour’s cat walked by. When Moleboheng appeared from the house the baby had torn the cat into pieces and nibbled at a paw.

Tsepang, knowing that his wife knew, no longer made an effort to hide, not as much as he did before. Sometimes, after a long day at work, when he thought Lebo wasn’t watching, he took his shoes off and let the dark talons on his feet loose and tapped the arm of the couch with his tail as he switched between the TV channels. Sometimes, Lebo feared her husband and daughter would venture into the night for a hunt, lose track of time and reveal themselves to the neighbours. She spent her life conjuring ways to conceal what they were. Her beastly love.

Mama frequented Moleboheng’s dreams, repeating the same thing she said when she died.

“I only wanted to protect you!”