Here Comes Treble: What Goes Around…
...“Hallo, daughter-darling,” I said, having noticed her number on my mobile phone before taking the call, “How are you?”
“I’m fine!” she said, sounding very cheerful. “Mom – I’m married!”...
But was daughter Diane really married? Isabel Bradley tells of a shocking fraud.
Thirty years ago, young and recently divorced, after a brief and almost-pointless marriage, I met and, within the space of a week, married a much older man. The results of this hasty act had unfortunate repercussions. At the time it was all terribly romantic, eloping with my tiny daughter, Diane, in tow: a hasty wedding ceremony in a magistrate’s office, a stilted lunch with strangers, then off for a weekend honeymoon.
When we returned to Johannesburg, I phoned my parents and asked them to visit as I had something to tell them. Dad was perfectly willing but for some reason Mom couldn’t make it. Half an hour later, Dad pulled up outside the house in his beloved Studebaker Silver Hawk, which cut out before he had time to switch the engine off. Concerned, he got out and started tinkering under the bonnet while I hovered, trying to get a word in between his mutterings of carburettors and ignition.
Eventually, unable to bear the suspense one more moment, I said, “Dad – I married Roy…”
He stopped tinkering, wiped his hands on his handkerchief, gently closed the bonnet of the car and said, “Have you done this, or are you going to do it?”
“I’ve done it,” I declared.
“Well,” said my wonderful father, “I think that calls for a whisky!” He came inside, sat with me and my new husband, my toddler clambering on his lap and drank his tot of whisky-on-the-rocks. How he broke the news to my mother I will never know, nor have I managed to find our how she reacted. My parents were the greatest support over the years of that deteriorating marriage and when it finally ended, something Dad did not live to see, Mom remained kind and understanding.
Now, thirty years later, I was on the phone to my determinedly-single daughter, Diane. “Hallo, daughter-darling,” I said, having noticed her number on my mobile phone before taking the call, “How are you?”
“I’m fine!” she said, sounding very cheerful. “Mom – I’m married!”
I had an instant flashback to my father standing over his Studebaker. “Uh-oh,” my mind said, “this is payback for what I did to my parents! What goes around, Isabel, comes around. Don’t react badly, Isabel. Stay calm, be happy for her no matter who…”
“Congratulations!” I said as heartily as I could, plastering a smile on my face, after the smallest of deep breaths. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Well, you see, Muhammed and I thought we’d go…” began my blonde, blue-eyed daughter, then she burst into laughter and explained
“No, I’m not really married. I received a tax certificate for me,, in the name of Diane Muhammed. When I received it, I naturally phoned the tax department and complained, stating that I’ve never been married and my surname is not Muhammed. They double-checked my identity number and got the same results a second time. They weren’t doing anything wrong, so I phoned the Department of Home Affairs and told them my problem. They said to me, ‘Yes, you’ve been married to Mr Muhammed since 2001.’ I told them I definitely hadn’t married anyone that I was aware of…
“For many years now, people wanting to come into South Africa illegally, have paid corrupt officials in the Department of Home Affairs for registration of marriage to South African women, in order to obtain South African passports and citizenship. The women don’t know anything about this until they need an official certificate, or genuinely want to get married, then they discover that, according to government records they’re already married!”
Investigations revealed that Diane’s Mr Muhammed left South Africa in January this year and is living in one of South Africa’s neighbouring countries, having presumably completed his nefarious activities here. Diane contacted a local talk-radio station, who identified the most influential and honest person to deal with in the Department of Home Affairs. This person contacted Diane, promising a quick resolution, once Diane has provided an affidavit declaring that the marriage did not happen, several other documents and a few completed forms, she has been promised an official, written apology. Diane, the unwitting victim of this fraud, is the person who must travel from Johannesburg to Pretoria to deliver the documents. She cannot change her status legally until she receives proof from the Department that the marriage did not exist, that she is and always has been single.
We speculated on the possible actions Diane could take against the unknown Mr Muhammed:
She could lay criminal charges against Mr mohammed; a daunting option in the current climate of corrupt officialdom.
She could bring charges against the corrupt official who ‘sold her’ to Mr Muhammed, if that official could be identified.
She could demand financial support from her husband; a rather dangerous move.
Diane could sue Mr Muhammed for a divorce and demand half of his worldly goods.
What would have happened if Diane had met the man of her dreams some time between 2001 and now, and wanted to get married? This is the sort of thing that could ruin a sincere relationship. How many men would be understanding when discovering his betrothed has been legally ‘married’ for the last eight years?
What started as an amusing conversation became a point of deep concern for the entire family. Hopefully, within a week, Diane will have legally returned to her determinedly single status.
It seems that this type of crime occurs worldwide, not only in South Africa. Perhaps every single woman should regularly check her marital status with the relevant government department, to ensure she remains unmarried.
Until next time, ‘here comes Treble!’
By Isabel Bradley © Copyright Reserved
