A man once came to me seeking advice about his nephew, Tshililo, whom he dismissively called “dumb.”
A few months earlier, Tshililo had phoned me, troubled by rumours that his fiancée, Beauty, was unfaithful. More disturbing still, another man was sending him threats to stay away from her.
Tshililo and Beauty had been together for over five years, but marriage had been delayed by family complications. Beauty’s parents were divorced – her father lived in North West, while her mother stayed in Johannesburg. She had grown up with her grandmother in Venda. These circumstances made formal marriage arrangements difficult.
When Tshililo told me about the threats, I arranged a meeting with the other man, Obed. We met at a sports ground near the police station for safety. Present were myself, Tshililo, Obed and Beauty, who was visibly shocked to see Obed there.
I asked Beauty directly: “My nephew says you are his, but Obed claims the same. Please tell us the truth.” After a bit of hesitation, she said, “I love Tshililo.”
Obed exploded: “Have you been playing me for a fool? What am I to you?” He advanced angrily, but I restrained him. Beauty insisted, “My real boyfriend is Tshililo.”
Pressed further, Obed revealed they had been together for two years, even spending Christmas holidays in Cape Town. Tshililo was stunned – Beauty had told him she was visiting her father. Confronted, Beauty admitted Obed was right.
Then Obed opened another can of worms. “If Tshililo is your real boyfriend, what about the man I caught you kissing at a tavern last weekend?” he asked. He explained how he had followed Beauty to a party, where he saw her kissing another man. When confronted, Beauty conceded and claimed the man had been forcing himself on her.
Obed, realising Tshililo was not the man from the tavern, apologised for the threats. “Sorry, gentleman. I’m out of this affair from now,” he said before leaving.
Now I was left with Tshililo. After hearing Obed’s story, it was clear Beauty had been unfaithful on multiple occasions. I asked Tshililo: “Do you know your girlfriend goes to taverns at night?”
“Yes,” he replied calmly. “I also know she drinks occasionally.”
“Doesn’t that bother you, since you are a devoted Christian?” I pressed.
“No,” he said. “Even Jesus made wine at a wedding. I still love her.”
Beauty quickly added, “Please uncle, don’t drive a wedge between me and my boyfriend. It was just a once-off mistake. It will never happen again.”
I realised then that I stood no chance of talking sense into my nephew. I left them behind, seemingly in a good mood.
Weeks later, I learned Tshililo had married Beauty in a private ceremony. When asked why I was not invited, he said, “My uncle is jealous of my success. My new family is my wife. End of story.”
Moral reflection
This story is not just about betrayal – it is about choices, blindness and the cost of ignoring truth. Tshililo saw the evidence of deception yet chose to bind himself to it. Love, when clouded by denial, becomes captivity.
Beauty’s double life revealed how easily affection can be divided, but Tshililo’s refusal to confront reality showed how fear of loss can outweigh self-respect.
The lesson is simple: love must be anchored in honesty. When truth is painful, it is still better faced than ignored. A relationship built on lies will demand a heavy price, and those who overlook deceit may one day find themselves calling loyalty what is, in fact, bondage.