The real cost of pricing love in cows: lobolo's harmful legacy

What is supposed to be a respectful tradition has evolved into a transactional disgrace. By Themba Dlamini

- Themba Dlamini

The sun was unrelenting, and so was the silence. Zama* had gone back inside to reason with her uncles and plead for sense.

Earlier, she had stood beside Siphiwe in a burnt-orange dress and a navy duku (headwrap) — a symbol of humility and respect. She is a doctor not just in title, but also in temperament: calm, composed. But under that composure, fury simmered.

Now, only Siphiwe and Uncle Khaya remained outside. Siphiwe adjusted his collar. His black suit had soaked up the humiliation. For five hours he had waited — not for a verdict, but for a voice, a sign that the gate would open and his future would begin. But all he got was sweat and suspense. Uncle Khaya folded and refolded a funeral pamphlet — the only fan under a jacaranda tree that refused to bloom. No blossoms. No breeze. No breakthrough.

Inside, Zama’s uncles debated cows.

Siphiwe wasn’t broke. He owned eight taxis crisscrossing Johannesburg from sunrise to midnight. On Fridays he cleared more than a rural principal’s monthly salary.

“God help us, Siphiwe,” Khaya muttered. “They say the father’s reasonable — but the mother ... ulihlaza (she’s unhinged). They want 12 cows. Because she’s a doctor.”

Siphiwe didn’t answer. His jaw twitched. His pride tightened. Then the gate creaked open. It was not an elder or a cousin. It was Zama. Her stepping out was a breach of protocol. Women didn’t appear during lobolo negotiations — certainly not the bride. But there she was on the gravel path, her eyes swollen with frustration, her voice steady but tired.

“I'm so sorry,” she said. “I tried. But they say your offer is an insult. A doctor can’t be married off like a shop assistant. My mother says we're embarrassing the family by settling for less.”

Uncle Khaya muttered under his breath, “Yabona manje (Do you see now)?”

Siphiwe looked at her. “Is that what you think too?” “No,” she said. “But I don’t know if what I think matters.”