CHAPTER 1

My name is Mandisa Buthelezi and I am 25 years old. I am from Gqeberha in the Eastern Cape, I was born and brought up there. I grew up in a very small family, it has always been me, my mother Nelisiwe Buthelezi, my father Zamile Buthelezi and my older sister Nandipha Buthelezi. My mother was a philanthropist and a surgeon and my father was a prosecutor. My sister was the golden child when it came to my parents because she became a physiotherapist 5 years ago and still is. And I was regarded nothing because I studied to become a sports fanatic and my heart and soul has always been in art. I had already accepted that I was not the favourite daughter so I decided to move out when I was 22 years old, I bought myself a house in Johannesburg.

Two years later after moving out and not visiting my parents, one morning I decided to call my sister. That was the day I found out that my parents were no more and had already been buried without my knowledge. The day I found out that my parents were no more was the day I lost myself. I felt empty and began to feel useless as my parents said I was. When they passed on they took my soul with them. It was more like someone ripping off my heart but not painfully because my parents and I were never close. I never knew a mother and a father's love. The only person I had was myself and I gave myself all the love that I needed. My biggest fear had been brought to life by the death of my parents.