When I First Met a Family Member

Life is a very long journey, and is full of unexpected moments. Some of the things that occur along ones days on earth are surprising. Whether they bring sadness or joy, we still have to embrace them and move on with the process of life. When growing-up I lived in a humble household of three siblings, and both my parents. The Mpanza family was not poor nor rich, but life was good. There were very little arguments being passed around, and that made life worth living. December 12 on the year 2010 we were surprised by a young boy (probably in his early 16's) carrying luggage that seemed heavy.

My father who raised me and my whole family, was the type of man who never spoke much. Whenever he spoke the house always went silent, and listened attentively. Not because we were scared of course, it was simply because he had interesting stories to tell. And that always kept us alert about how this world functions. But on a Christmas day when we were listening to one of his intellectual speeches, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was a very gentle knock, one we have never heard before. We hardly had any visitors, so we knew the knocks of the people who seldom came to visit my mother (it was often the ladies from the local church my mother attended sunday services at). But I was sure it was not them this time. So my younger brother ran to open the door.

Ours jaws dropped when we were greeted by this dark skinned boy carrying. Heavy luggage, two bags and a huge travel case. He asked for water and I filled the glass for him. My mother seemed a bit anxious, troubled and confused. But I asked no questions. The time was 17:00 and the boy started telling us of his journey from eNkandla to Gingindlovu (a small village I live in). The boys name was Mhlengi to my surprise his names was also Mpanza. Mhlengi told us the hard life he has been living, the abuse he has endure for the passed sixteen years where he ran away from. And it was as if I was seeing him being beaten by and starved, and made to heard cows daily.

I remembered that the man of the house (my father) had told me about a child who he was separated from during the apartheid era. Just when I was pensive about that, he called all the family members to the dining table. He had a serious facial expression, we were not fond of. But we still listened attentively, as he started speaking. He usually sat down when speaking, but this time he was walking standing. He told us of his misfortune during the apartheid era, and how he has lost contact with important people. apparently he was forced to leave a lady he was inlove with, before my mother. The family of that household moved her to another location, when the young boy Mhlengi was a year old. Despite my father trying to find her, his attempts failed. So my father finally told us that Mhlengi is our brother.

I was very bliss-filled on that day. Infact Decembcer 12 year 2010 was the best christmas, and I a day I will never forget. I was blessed to know that I have an older brother. my three sisters and I shared stories with Mhlengi and told him of all that he had missed. Tool out photo albums to show him our relatives, and he was very happy. And felt at home, safe, loved and cared for.
On that day, for the first time I heard my father sing out of joy.