When Tshilidzi Muzhou walked into my office, his face carried the heavy shadow of betrayal.
“My brother,” he began, “my father died last year, and I have just discovered that my siblings and I are not in his will. Instead, it’s my stepmother and her children. I cannot allow this — only over my dead body.” His words were sharp, his anger uncontained.
I urged him to calm down and tell me the story from the beginning.
His parents had built a brick-yard business in 1985, later expanding it into a mini supermarket, a restaurant, and eventually a tavern. In 2020, Tshilidzi added a printing shop and a dry-cleaning service. Together, these ventures grew into a bustling shopping hub for the local community.
“I was part of building that empire,” he explained. “I couldn’t go to university after matric because my parents told me I was the one to run the business as they approached pension age. Most of the expansion ideas came from me, though my father funded them.”
The turning point came in 2022, when his mother passed away. Within three months, his father married Dora, a woman with three children of her own, including her eldest son, Patrick. At first, things seemed fine — but soon his father insisted on a white wedding.
“When he married my mother, there was no wedding,” Tshilidzi said bitterly. “It was done in the traditional way: lobola was paid, the families gathered, and the union was sealed.”
Soon after, his father handed control of all finances to Patrick, who held a Bachelor of Commerce in Accounting. Tshilidzi protested, but his father resisted fiercely. His siblings accused him of jealousy, believing he wanted control for personal gain. Under Dora’s influence, his father eventually expelled him from the business. To appease him, his father bought him a taxi — only paying the deposit, leaving Tshilidzi to cover the monthly instalments.
Patrick became the man in charge. Then, in 2024, tragedy struck: Tshilidzi’s father was found dead in his room under mysterious circumstances, with no injuries or prior illnesses. After the burial, Tshilidzi sought clarity on ownership of the businesses. By then, everything was under Dora and Patrick’s control.
Desperate, he went to the local chief, Thovhele Vho Davhula, who knew his parents well. The chief welcomed him warmly: “You know what, Tshilidzi, I was very concerned when I saw your parents’ business being run by people I don’t even know. Thank you for coming.”
Together, they agreed to confront Dora and Patrick with the village elders, demanding that the business be returned to Tshilidzi and his two sisters.
On the day of the meeting, Dora and Patrick arrived with their lawyer. After the chief ruled that the business should revert to Tshilidzi as heir, the lawyer objected:
“With due respect, Chief Davhula, according to the South African Law of Succession — specifically, the Wills Act 7 of 1953 and the Intestate Succession Act 81 of 1987 — the businesses that belonged to the late Mr Muzhou now legally belong to Dora. She was married to him, and in his will, Mr Muzhou clearly stated that all businesses and his residential property should be given to her.”
The lawyer produced a signed copy of the will.
The meeting, attended by about thirty locals, erupted in chaos. Some threatened to beat up the lawyer. Others shouted at Dora: “Vacate the business before we kill you! You are not going to own that business! You and your son must leave our village immediately!”
Dora and her lawyer fled for their lives.
The story ended in turmoil that day — but what happens next is yet to unfold.
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