Stubborn and strong willed, that's who I am, and those two words define Celeste Khoza in a nutshell. I've always been a bit of a...let's say, I've always had high standards when it came to anything in my life.
Ever since I was a toddler, I have always gotten what I wanted from my parents. Don't get me wrong I'm neither the only child my parents have had nor are they recipients of old money. Matter of fact, my parents are from humble beginnings. My father was born in a family of 11 that lived in a one bedroom flat in Hillbrow, Johannesburg and my mother lived with her grandparents and four cousins in a shack in rural Tembisa. My mother always told me that she was a young girl who had big dreams of taking over the world and her grandparents made her believe that anything was possible which was why she worked so hard at school and managed to get a bursary to study at any university of her choice. During her first year, she stumbled into my drunken father one night at a party and the pair ever since then had fallen in love and became inseparable. They were together for five years before they decided to get married, buy a beautiful starter home and start both a business and a family together. That’s when they were hit with the idea to open up their own butcher and ten years later, it became a franchise. By the time I was in my teens they had over 17 butcher branches in the country, and as a result of that we had a well off lifestyle. The best private schools in the country, ridiculously expensive clothing, unnecessary weekend getaways every week and chauffeured luxury cars.
My parents gave us whatever we desired and made it crystal clear that the world was in our hands and either of us could do whatever we wanted, no matter the cost. That’s why when my oldest sister wanted to branch into fashion and design, my parents quickly sent her off to France, and when my brother asked for the most classic Ferrari luxury car that my parents could find for him, he got that and a penthouse in the heart of Sandton.
The unnecessary spending only increased when it came to me, their youngest child. I was spoiled, pampered and coddled. As a result of that, even at my age of 32 years, I still stay with my parents in the enormous, extravagant and ornate mansion in the affluent suburb only meant for the extremely well off upper class society of Johannesburg- Houghton.
I couldn’t be seen ever not looking my best because I have a reputation to uphold which was why I was always one thing: neat. Contrary to a lot of women, mostly in my family, I believed that short hair was the best and it was why I always kept my hair short for as long as I could remember. Don’t get me wrong, I`m not referring to a bob, I`m referring to a shaved head. Mostly because my natural stubborn African hair was tedious to deal with so shaving my head was the most sensible thing for me to do.
There are a lot of things about me that were different from everybody else, my thought processes and actions being namely two. The same way that my sister always knew from young that she wanted to be a fashion designer and be in the fashion industry, I knew what I wanted- or better yet, I knew what I didn’t want. You see, when I was in my teens and girls were talking about dates, make out sessions, sex, getting married and having a happily ever after with some foolish immature boys who probably didn't wash their dirty boxers. While my classmates were going on dates, and my aunts and cousins would come with "happy" news about being pregnant or getting engaged, I would visibly shudder in disgust and horror and take my leave. A man? Now that was one thing I didn't need.
Don’t get me wrong, my father has always been wonderful to me but the same cannot be said for his relationship with my mother. My father has been known for his affairs and mistresses over the years during their marriage. I`ve lost count of the amount of times my mother would catch him red handed and I`ve lost count of the amount of times my mother would break down and cry, until eventually, she just became numb. I could see that he loved her. My father adored my mother, but the man was very easily tempted.
He`s not the only disappointment of a man that I have come across in my life, because the very same men that my aunts and cousins would proudly announce to be married to and impregnated by, abused them both physically and emotionally, and I refuse to ever go through the same.
I know I`m not the only one who has seen the dark nature of men because how many times have you switched on the news and saw a mug shot of some man who'd murdered, or beaten his wife or girlfriend near death? How many times have you seen your own family female members covering up their bruises in front of you? How many times have you heard the stories? Or seen the women who had snapped due to the abuse and finally did something about it but were arrested because the law protects these monsters?
I didn't want to be that woman. I refused to be.
So from a young age, I was always aware about what was going on. I was aware of my father hitting my mother, I was aware of my father disappearing and then reappearing and hugging me like he'd never left and I was aware of my mother's tears and how my aunts told her that she should hold onto her marriage.
Everybody around me was aware of my feelings towards any man and even though at the beginning they had laughed and called me foolish, thinking that at some point I`d get a boyfriend, I kept true to my word and only focused on myself and trying to make it in this concrete jungle. In fact, my mother was my biggest supporter, always telling me that love didn’t exist anymore, and my father would warn me to stay away from men because they would eventually break my heart.
So you can't imagine the disbelief and surprise after all these years, when I am 32 years old, running and owning one of my parents butcher branches- facing my parents as they told me that they, the most messed up couple ever, have found me a husband.
Stubborn and strong willed, that's who I am, and those two words define Celeste Khoza in a nutshell. I've always been a bit of a...let's say, I've always had high standards when it came to anything in my life. Ever since I was a toddler, I have always gotten what I wanted from my parents. Don't get me wrong I'm neither the only child my parents have had nor are they recipients of old money. Matter of fact, my parents are from humble beginnings. My father was born in a family of 11 that lived in a one bedroom flat in Hillbrow, Johannesburg and my mother lived with her grandparents and four cousins in a shack in rural Tembisa. My mother always told me that she was a young girl who had big dreams of taking over the world and her grandparents made her believe that anything was possible which was why she worked so hard at school and managed to get a bursary to study at any university of her choice. During her first year, she stumbled into my drunken father one night at
After my parents woke up before the sun even rose, which is the time that they always wake up whenever they are home. They sleep at 18:30 and are awake by 05:30, and when I open my eyes an hour later my mum's already cooked an entire buffet for breakfast. She prefers to cook for us instead of having a chef because we were once poisoned by a chef that my father hired. It turned the chef had an affair with my father at some point and because he didn’t want to be with her anymore, she tried to kill the whole family. It was a long time ago, I believe I was three at that time, and my mother has long since forgotten about that incident so I didn’t dwell on it either.During breakfast, my parents promised to spend the day with me and forced me to call into work sick. Which is why four hours later I'm all dressed up for the mini birthday celebration. I had on one of my new wigs because I wanted to try a new look. It was a shiny black bodywave of rich and lu
"Are you sure your parents aren't smoking some hectic shit?" Thembisa asked me, her Cape Townian accent thick, as she poured some boiling water into the two mugs for us to have some coffee.I rolled my eyes, "at this point I don't even know. They might be.""Yoh, because let me tell you something, there's this new drug called Flakka, you should see how people act. I'm telling you, your parents," she paused as she dramatically pouted, "your parents are smoking that shit!"I laughed and she joined in as she sat down and opened her legs, cleaning her teeth with her nail as she burped loudly, "what's up?" she asked me as she sipped from her coffee and I fought hard not to slam her legs closed, slap her across t
It was 11:00 on Sunday when I walked back into the house and found my parents walking around casually before they both froze when they saw me. I haven’t been home since that belated birthday lunch when they told me that they found me a husband. I didn’t want to even look at them at this point because more than anything I was hurt and offended. "Cel-" my mother began but I ignored her as I walked past her, heading up the stairs to my room. She called out my name behind me and followed me up the stairs but I ignored her as I opened my bedroom door and locked it behind me so that she wouldn’t follow me into my room before I sighed and tossed my wig to the floor. I heard a knock on my bedroom door but I wasn't going to answer it or even pay attention to it. "Celeste..." she paused and I rolled my eyes, taking off my jewellery as I yawned, "uh, we're having a dinner later on. I was just telling you so that
"Celeste," I heard as I was walking past the kitchen, heading towards my bedroom after the long tiresome day I've had.I rolled my eyes but sighed, I've been ignoring them for three days and I'm not used to not speaking to them and being angry at them. I`m still very much upset at them but it`s getting old now. Instead of ignoring them, it would be much wiser to sit down and talk about this so called arrangement of theirs so that I can make it crystal clear that I won`t accept it."Yes," I replied blandly as I walked into the kitchen and straight to the sink where I started to wash my hands, hoping to get the smell of raw meat off me.My mother was sitting alone by the kitchen island, eating watermelons and I looked at her as she looked at me and patted the extra stool besides her, "we need to talk, my child."I licked my bottom dry lip and sighed as I walked to her and sat down beside h
I took my time as I descended the stairs because I knew that they were already waiting for me- I was after all, over an hour late. I wasn’t late just to be spiteful…ok, maybe I was, but just a little. But I was spending all of that time, making sure that I was going to look perfect.Everything of mine tonight had to be absolutely perfect.My short hair had been brushed smoothly against my scalp, my eyelashes were long and sparkled whenever I blinked. My lips were painted a deep dark red that seemed light against my dark skin tone and my contouring was flawless. My facial structure has always been fierce, but tonight I was confident that I looked like a Goddess. I was also thankful that I had taken that 6 months make up course from a famous makeup artist because those skills had come in handy today, and my hands did not disappoint.I wanted to make a statement the second I stepped out of my bedroom and wh
It was such a relief that I had gotten that off my chest finally, it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I couldn’t really gauge his reaction to be honest but his already thin lips were set in a straight line and his eyes seemed... well, I was never really good at reading people so I can't decipher his mood. But it was definitely sombre and awkward, which was why I needed to take leave.Phew, breaking hearts is a lot of work I really shouldn’t do this ever again. My first date had started off well, but now, well now it's not a date anymore.Silently, I stood from the chair, moving my dress to allow myself to properly stand as I straightened up and was about to walk passed him before he gripped my wrist and stopped me.I froze as I turned my head to look at this man, baffled at his action, "let go of my wrist," I said strongly as I tried to move my wrist out of his strong hold but he was gripping it t
"Hey, it's Thembisa. Listen, I was just checking up on you. You're not picking up your phone calls, bruh, you're not even on Twitter anymore so I know something's going on. Listen, I'm here if you need to talk. Whatever you're going through I'm here for you, don't forget that. You don't have to go through anything alone. My gun is ready and my car is ready so I'm ready to kill a motherfucker. I love you, neh, don't forget that."I almost laughed at that voicemail as I stared at my darkened phone screen.I clicked for the next voicemail."Uh, hello boss, it's Lesedi. I've been trying to call you but it's taking me straight to voicemail. I wanted to tell you about, uh, t-the, what's it called? Oh yeah, deliveries. We got, I think it's fifty cows...the bodies of the cows...no, the skeleton of the cows... wait, how do I say it? Eish, ja, you know what I mean. We've been selling enough, and I stay last to loc