1. The Natural Order of Birth
In African families, every child carries a role shaped by nature and culture.
- The Gofejane (firstborn) carries boikarabelo — responsibility, discipline, and the duty to set order.
- The Mojalefa (lastborn) is Moja Lefa — “the one who eats the wealth,” inheriting the home but also the burdens, debts, and unresolved conflicts of the family.
Traditionally, this balance kept the village strong. The elder children left to expand the bloodline. The lastborn stayed behind to guard the home. But in the cage of the township, these roles were twisted. Inheritance was no longer land, cattle, and dignity — it became four-roomed houses built by apartheid. And instead of blessings, the Mojalefa inherited problems.
2. The Mother as Earthly God
Every child comes from the earthly god — the mother. To become a man or woman, one must cut that cord and resonate with Mmopi, the Creator. Without this initiation, adulthood never arrives.
In today’s urban life, anxiety is the new law. Anxious mothers cling to their children, turning 30-year-olds into babies who must never be hurt. And since anxiety is profitable — feeding industries of pills, therapy, and social media — society rewards this fear.
The result is adults who never leave the nest, still tied to the womb, still fighting over their mother’s house.
3. The Cage of Inheritance
In the villages, inheritance was about continuity: land to cultivate, cattle to multiply, a family name to uphold.
In the townships, inheritance became a curse:
- Four-roomed houses treated as treasures when they were really cages.
- Families fighting in courts over bricks instead of futures.
- The Mojalefa inheriting trauma instead of wealth.
Fighting over an apartheid house is like fighting for a prison cell. That is not inheritance — it is captivity.
4. Pain as Memory
Africans did not ask “Why me?” We understood that pain was part of the journey — a reminder that something had happened. We accepted outcomes, protected our dignity, and moved forward.
But today, the South African darkie has forgotten the pain of apartheid. Why? Because cages were built to keep us busy, fighting each other, consuming anxiety, and mistaking survival for life.
Pain is not just suffering. Pain is memory. Without memory, there can be no evolution.
5. The Lesson of Wicked
In the play Wicked, animals who once spoke lost their voices when they were caged. They lost their intelligence. They lost their dignity.
This is our story. When Africans were caged in the townships, something was stolen — not just land, but the freedom to dream. And when intelligence is silenced, families turn inward, fighting over scraps.
6. Closing
Sibling rivalry is never just about brothers. It is about a broken system of inheritance, anxious mothering, and the cages that still bind us.
To heal, we must remember:
- The Gofejane must carry true responsibility.
- The Mojalefa must inherit not just wealth, but wisdom.
- Mothers must release their children to Mmopi.
- Pain must be remembered, not avoided — for it proves that history happened.
Only then can we step out of cages, reclaim our voices, and restore dignity beyond the prison walls of apartheid’s design.