LOVE YOU TO DEATH
Real-life cases of murderous wives inspired this ‘fun’ read about killer women, writes Jennifer Platt
Black Widow Society Angela Makholwa (Macmillan, R220)
ON December 7 2006, Avhatakali Netshisaulu, the son of newspaper editor Mathatha Tsedu, was kidnapped, beaten and thrown into the boot of a car, which was then set alight.
His wife, Mulalo Sivhidzho, was behind it all — having hired two men to kill her husband. Mulalo was sentenced to life in prison for the murder.
Little more than a week later, on December 18, well-known theatre personality Taliep Petersen was shot dead in his home in what appeared to be a robbery. His wife Najwa was found guilty of masterminding the killing and is currently serving 28 years.
Then, in 2007, Celiwe Mbokazi plotted the murder of her husband, Heia Safari Ranch owner Frans Richter. In his will, she was the beneficiary of a R1-million trust fund.
In these real “black widow” cases, author Angela Makholwa spotted the perfect idea for a novel. “I wondered why these women would order hits against their husbands when it’s well known that the spouse is the first suspect,” she says. “They were bound to get caught, somehow. I thought it would be a brilliant idea to have a secret society of women who didn’t get caught for a long time. This formed the foundation of the book.”
The members of Makholwa’s Black Widow Society (BWS) have been taking care of women who need to “eliminate” their husbands y for 15 years. The society is run by a powerful triumvirate. Leader of the pack is turban-wearing Tallulah, who vehemently believes that what they are doing is for the good of women. She frequently butts heads with the financial head of the BWS, Nkosazana Khumalo, who is only in it for the money. The peacekeeper among the three is softspoken Edna Whithead.
A respected businesswoman, Tallulah holds a tight rein on the BWS.
“I needed a matriarch,” says Makholwa, “a powerful woman who has experienced exactly what her clients have gone through and feels quite strongly about the vigilante justice that she metes out.” But Tallulah’s need for control comes with a need to submit in her private life. “I wanted her to be a bit more interesting than a standard ‘bitter woman scorned’, hence the young men in her life and her need to submit to them.”
The three women don’t commit the murders themselves: they’ve hired a hitman, Mzwakhe Khuzwayo, to do the dirty work.
One of the most interesting and likable people in the book, Makholwa says of him: “I kind of fell in love with Mzwakhe. He’s nuanced. On the one hand, he is this tough, macho Zulu man who kills, but he also has this soft side.”
The hitman with the heart of gold sings along to country pop song Islands in the Stream , while thinking about the love of his life, Marie. But he slowly spirals into insanity, questioning everything and becoming paranoid as he is surrounded by the evil women of the BWS.
Mzwakhe becomes the vehicle of the society’s implosion. “Evil begets evil,” says Makholwa. “When people meet and conspire to do evil, something’s got to give.” For all that, the amount of sympathy the BWS gets from readers has surprised the author, who presumed that South Africans “are still in a society that believes people who commit murder are bad. But what I realised, after the fact, is that the issue of domestic abuse is such a fundamental one, women are happy it’s being written about. When I was writing, I just wanted the book to be a fun read.”
Fortunately, it’s that, too. There are creepy, dodgy men who get their just desserts, a stripper turned into a society queen and a vulnerable yet silly expat who has really bad taste in partners.
Makholwa likes the idea that a woman who is in an abusive relationship might read it and realise she has the agency to leave.
“I’m not a person who writes with a message but I was in an abusive relationship in my twenties and it was so difficult to walk. You feel trapped and your partner makes it seem impossible. You don’t have to join the BWS, but you can walk away.” —