CHAPTER ONE

“Quickly, they’re coming”, my best friend yells, her voice coming out squeaky and high pitched.

We half paddle-half run through the red water, disturbing a cloud of tadpoles which scatter all over,
tickling my legs as they swim past. We run towards our clothes, giggling and laughing like little girls. My
dress, a plain cream, nothing-to-write-home-about tunic that was pre-loved by my mother in her youth,
lies there on the bank waiting for me. Dressing in a rush is the worst thing ever! What with the sand
sticking on me like glue and this stupid dress inside out. I fight the dress and the sleeve is caught in itself
stopping my hand from finding its way to the other side. It just takes longer and longer to hide my
nudity from the fast approaching intruders. How frustrating! Eventually, the distressed mass of cotton
cooperates and I’m clothed. Phew! That was a close shave.

The chiming and clanging of cow bells tells us that they are not far. We bath here before sunset and I
swear it’s like those stupid boys are always trying to catch us naked! Why exactly, I have no clue. But
whatever their motivation, it’s not happening anytime soon. With our hearing of bats, we hear them
from miles away every time! Besides, the cow bells never fail to sell them out. Boys. Dumb creatures
those.

Still giggling about almost being caught, we pick up our 20 L buckets and head up stream to fetch
drinking water. Everyone knows bilharzia lives downstream and no one is trying to drink diseases here.
We walk along the bank facing the sun. It’s glowing a beautiful orange appearing graceful as it slowly
disappears beyond the outline of the mountains and sinking into the horizon. Those mountains are one
of the few things that fascinate me about this village. They look so mighty and silent, as if they harbour
the secrets of kings. Their peaks disappear into the sky perfectly as if they are one. I personally think
that’s where the world ends.

On our left lies the river, our village’s lifeline. It’s before the rainy season now and the bed is drying. It
appears beautifully ugly with patches of sand surfacing in random places disturbing the flow of the red
looking water. The river earned its name ‘The Blood River’ from the colour of the water. It's just
harmless residues and seepage from the trees upstream, nothing lethal.

The river appears straight from this point, going as far as the eye can see, then undulating and
meandering into a greater beyond I’ve never been to. I wish one day I'll find a husband as faithful as this
river. It has never completely dried out, come drought come famine! The water may disappear but it’s
never far from the surface.
On our right is greenness compact and thick. The trees and shrubs are bundled together like they are
guarding something sacred. They give off an eerie aura and their blackish roots that grow over the
ground, intertwining like the snakes on Medusa’s head make the hairs on my neck stand. I always expect
a tokoloshe or worse to jump out of there and eat me! We continue for a little while longer down the
path then descend into the river to fill up our buckets. I slip off a smooth rock and break the fall with my
bucket. These smooth rocks are everywhere, and they come in all shapes, sizes and colours. They’re not
just near the river but everywhere around the village. I suppose that’s why they named the village
Matombo which translates to rocks.

I keep dusting off the drying sand from my legs and rustling the droplets of water off my afro. My hair is
long now, too long for my liking. It’s a twisted mess of knots and kinks that just won't stop growing! But
no matter how much I beg, mama won’t let me cut it. She says it's my crown, good genes I inherited
from my father, and I should wear it with pride. Why exactly I need a crown when I’m not even remotely
close to royalty, beats me. But mama knows best so I keep this tangled mess of a crown that defies
gravity perched on my head.

My friend here envies my hair. She always says ‘Your hair is flourishing! It's so alive! Give me some of it’.
She says it’s the blackest, thickest, longest and most beautiful hair she’s ever see. How exactly you
describe coils and coils of hair growing upwards as long, I don't know. I never buy her compliments. I
think she’ll be just being a good friend and doing that thing pretty girls say to their not so pretty friends!
I can’t even pass my own fingers through the knots, that's how bad this ‘crown’ is! It's frustrating really.
The only time I’m grateful for it is when I have to carry a bucket of water or firewood on my head. Then
I’m like, ‘Thank you dear afro, live long and prosper’.

Where are my manners? Look at me going on and on about me, me, me, with no introduction
whatsoever. How rude! My name is Lwezi. I’m fifteen years of age. My best friend's name is Nomasonto
and she is sixteen. We’re almost women grown, yet we still behave like children. Our mantra is ‘we ain’t
never getting older’ because who wants to do that adulting thing? Not me for one.

Everyone calls Nomasonto Sonto and me, they just call me Lwezi because how would they shorten
Lwezi? Lwe? Zi? Those are just ridiculous! So whether I’m being loved or shouted at, my full name gets
used! Unfair if you ask me! I was named Lwezi because I was born in November! My parents didn’t even
try. They just thought ‘oh she’s born in November (Lwezi) so let’s just name her after this month’. How
lazy! I can’t wait to have my own children one day so I can give them colourful names and at least three
each so that they have a choice.

I’m sorry, I derailed there. I do that a lot. My mind wanders off and I have a short attention span. My
brother always says I’m lucky that I’m a girl and so I don’t go to the big school or else I would be a dom
kop. Well, who needs education anyway? The elders in the village teach us all we need to know to make
it through this lifetime in one piece. So education for who? I mean that’s reserved for the boys so they
can grow up and go to the city and labour away in factories. I’ve heard horrible stories of the city and I
have no desire to go there. I’ve never dreamt of leaving Matombo. Why would I? Where would I go? It’s
all I know and I’m comfortable in my space.

They say in the cities people live like they have arrived in hell already, scantily dressed, women
advertising their body parts to whoever cares to look, men drinking the type of beer that didn't brew on
a fire for days, unblessed alcohol that. It's sin city, they say. The people live with no morals or regard for
what’s right or wrong, whatsoever. That’s just terrible. Here we abide by culture and tradition. We're a
grounded people and in that regard we live in peace and harmony.

“Initiation starts tomorrow. I can’t wait!”, Sonto says, throwing her hand around my waist. This girl is so
touchy feely, I never understand it. I don’t like being touched but it’s Sonto so she gets a pass.

“You don’t need the school, you already know everything”, I say to her and we both giggle. “Well,
there’s always room for improvement! Besides, no one knows what I know. I will act all naïve and
clueless like the rest of you”, this flowery best friend of mine says.

I look at her face, glowing from the kisses of the setting sun. Her short hair sitting in off-black rigid curls
on her head reflecting the light and so looking like it has hidden little dancing diamonds underneath.
Then she smiles at me and I can’t help but smile back at her. Her smile is captivating, contagious and just
downright infectious. Wow! She’s beautiful! Sonto. Ever so graceful, kind and beautiful, inside out, with
the soul of an elder spirit. Free, happy and living out loud. She’s my role model! When I grow up, I want
to be as happy and carefree as her, well, except she’s just one year older than me!

I’ve been best friends with this girl since we were in napkins. Our mothers were best friends then so it
just spilled over. They don’t talk anymore but that’s their problem not ours. Sonto has been described as
too grown for her age and most mothers warn their children not to get too acquainted with her. I call
nonsense! Fine, her hips are wide, her body is plump and her breasts are bigger than most girls our age
but so what? Victimising her because of that is just not fair. They are jealous, all of them! I love her and I
think she’s drop dead gorgeous. I would kill to look like her, even for a day.

Her body has all the right curves in the right places. With a tiny, clinched in waist that further
accentuates her round bottom and makes her bosom pop. She’s like a clay doll moulded by a skilled
potter with a good taste in women. Her boyfriend says she looks like the figure eight. I don't know how
to read much but I can read numbers so yes I agree, she's eight-shaped. She truly is gorgeous.
Me, I’m the exact opposite. I’m lean and slender and small and straight as a ruler, with a flat chest and
hips that don’t yet exist. I have breasts, if I can call them that. They are so small they are like mosquito
bites, my goodness. I’m built like my father and I hate it. I want to look like Sonto! I’m saved only by my
face, the only thing I got from my mother. They say I’m beautiful but I don’t know, people always say
things they don’t mean to make you feel better about yourself.

The one thing I know I have is a smile that shows off my perfect white pearls. When I smile, my eyes
glow like the stars in the heavens, forming a gorgeous scene. Not my words! My father used to say that,
rest his poor soul. We are in the river now and digging away sand with a wooden bowl to get to the
clean water underneath. The water slowly fills the well. We scoop away the red water until it becomes
not so red, then we fill up our buckets.

“I don’t want to go to initiation school”, I say.

“But you have to! How else will you know what to do when some unlucky guy finally decides to marry
your grumpiness?”, Sonto says laughing.

“He’ll teach me!", I say.

“No sweets, men have no time to buy a bicycle and then teach it how to move! All they want is to buy a
bicycle, ride it and it should move forwards! So yes, Missy! You of all people need initiation school more
than anyone else”, she says.

I roll my eyes. She’s right. I’m fifteen and I will be married soon. I wonder who to because honestly, no
one in this village looks good enough to marry and sorry honey but I’m not settling! Well, the chief’s son
is quite the looker but I’m a peasant and would never be good enough for him to even look my
direction! Poor me. I hope I don’t end up failing to find a husband then being married off as a second or
tenth wife to some dying rich old man. That would just be cruel!

Anyway, initiation school. I’m not excited about it. But at least I’ll get to spend the whole week with my
girl! That’s something to look forward to. The stories this girl has! Her mother gossips a lot and so she
tells her daughter everyone’s business and Sonto is generous enough to pass the information on to me
and occasionally I pass the stories to my mother, if they're not about her of course.

With our buckets of water on our heads we make that unnice uphill climb from the river bed up to the
bank. The water splashes over the bucket, drenching my back as I scramble upwards with the help of
one hand. I knew I shouldn't have filled it to the brim! Then we head back home, chit chatting like little
birdies. Sonto stays further down so she has to walk on alone.

“Don’t be late!”, she shouts.

“Have I ever been late? I should be saying that to you!”, I shout back.
We laugh. We never need a reason to laugh. We are young and carefree, so we laugh just because.

I make the fire to prepare supper. It drizzled earlier today, not enough to raise the tide of the river but
enough to leave the firewood damp. Now I’m battling with smoke! Just great.

I’m all alone and it’s either I sing or I think. Sonto always says I sing like a cat that’s being strangled to
death so I don’t sing. I guess I’ll just think then. Home is lonely. It’s only mama and I living here. My
brothers grew up, took wives and moved out of home. So it’s just mama and me now. Not that I’m
complaining! She loves me well and treats me like a baby! I live for her. I wish I could marry the chief’s
son honestly so I can be rich and take care of her. We kind of struggling and going to ask for food from
my brothers all the time isn’t much fun. Mama can’t work the fields because she’s been unwell for a
while now. I don't know what exactly is wrong with her! Ever since father died, which was many years
ago, she just shut down and never recovered. So we starve, maybe that’s why I’m so thin. I can’t work
the fields because I’m small. But somehow we never go to bed hungry, the ancestors provide.

Oh well, we have enough food for the week so no worries here, let me cook. Cooking is not a skill I was
blessed with, but we have to eat and mama is always lost in her own world so someone has to bring raw
ingredients together and transform them into something edible. And that job falls on me. This kitchen
looks ancient. It looks like evil spirits dwell here with all that soot on the blackened grass roof. And right
now the smoke is not helping really. The whole place looks like a coal mine! Not that I've seen one
before but I imagine it looks like our kitchen. A black, three legged pot is now sitting on the struggling
fire as I work the firewood, trying to redirect the smoke away from me.

The whole initiation thing is making me nervous. Yes, I know that I'll never be woman enough without
going through it! But is it necessary really? I think it’s not and it’s a culture we should do away with
already! It's invasive and uncomfortable. I did mention that I hate being touched right? And I was just
talking about my arms. So now having old women open me up in places I have never seen inside myself
makes me want to run away, far and fast.

But you know old people preserve ‘culture’ as if the ancestors will wipe away the whole village if we
don’t kowtow! It’s all useless. We should all be allowed to choose what we want, not go through our
feeble lives following a set of rules cast in stone! See, on the outside I can be described as quiet and
meek and obedient but in my head, boy am I loud! My brain never shuts up, questioning everything,
judging everyone and just doing what it was made for. Thinking.

So tomorrow at sunrise we have to report to MaDume’s home. Her home is the initiation ‘school’. She
has a big empty mud hut there reserved just for that. There we will have the honour of spending seven
full days, away from our families, surrounded by old, bitter women and annoying girls who think they
are suddenly grown. What a waste of time! Again, yes, I know that initiation is an integral part of our
culture, a rite of passage for all girls who have come of age and I should be treating it with respect. I
know that. We will have the intactness of our hymens validated, then we’ll be taught how to be women,
how to please men, how to be wives, how to give birth, you know, all things women! I personally think
those things should come naturally.

We’ll be taught how to fully submit to a husband and how to keep a marriage. Not that a woman can fail
at a marriage! That’s like the disgrace of the highest order, the disgrace to end all disgraces! We’ll also
be taught how to take care of a home, how to not speak up in public gatherings and embarrass our
future husbands and how to make sure we bear many children. Those last lessons are stupid if you ask
me. How exactly do you teach someone how to bear many children? I didn’t know that was a choice, I
thought whatever number the ancestors decide for you that’s it!

You know, life is really unfair when you sit down and look at it. Us girls are treated like we’re subhuman!
We do all the work at home, we clean, cook, fetch water, fetch firewood, work the fields. We do
everything! What do the boys do? All they do is go to the big school, not initiation school but a proper
school with books and pens and a teacher and they even learn English and fancy things there! Then after
school they look after the cows and that’s all.

Then when we grow up, we have a loooong list of Do’s and Don’ts and we labour away for our husbands
and their families. We submit, we love, we nurture, we nod ‘yes’ even to wrongs, we get beaten up by
our husbands and we say thank you! So not fair! A man can marry as many wives as his father’s cows
allows but once a woman marries that’s it. Game over lady! You can never leave or look at another man.
Well except if you have a death wish. They kill you. I’m serious, they kill you kill you, dead! A woman can
never leave her marriage except if they are lucky and they are chased away, which is very rare. Lobola is
paid for a reason after all. It’s not just cows, it’s a covenant that cannot be undone, made between the
two families’ ancestral spirits. So, no matter how hard things get, a wife stays. Even at death, she's
buried at her husband’s home.

I know that most girls are excited by the idea of initiation, and what intrigues them the most is being
taught about sex. We don’t discus sex, it’s taboo and embarrassing. That’s why it’s done at night,
candles off, behind closed doors, because it’s sacred. Only a few girls my age know exactly what sex is
about. Sonto has tried describing it to me but I never get it really. Unlike all the other silly girls I’ll be
spending the week with, sex doesn’t enthuse me. If anything it irks me and the very thought makes me
cringe. I hate being touched, now imagine being touched by a man. Yuck!

***************
The cocks crow once and I get up. I don’t have to wait until they crow three times, it’s not like any one is
trying to deny Jesus here. I quickly fold my blankets and my grass mat then step out. It’s dawn and I have
chores to do before I leave. I make the fire first and put a can of water for mama to bath, then I sweep
the whole yard and sweep the kitchen. We need a new broom, this isn’t working anymore. I can almost
count the number of grass straws left here. I stand, one hand on my waist and look around this place I
call home.

Six huts scattered across a barren looking yard. Soil erosion has done a number on this ground. Only
three of the huts are still in use, the rest provide shelter for goats during the rainy season. Our home
looks poor, I think that's the simplest way to put it. I do my best to keep it clean but I can’t clean old age
off the mud plastered walls. The roofs are caving in giving the home the appearance of ruins. The once
red-brown soil we used on the walls is so faded it looks almost cream now. And not a good looking
cream at that. The fence forming the perimeter of the yard is hardly there. There’s bits and pieces of
leftovers still standing here and there but the rest is lying tired on the ground trampled by cows and
goats. With a fence like this I don’t know why we still have a gate. Everywhere is a gate! I wish father
was still alive, things were much better then.

CHAPTER TWO

I pick up my blanket and bag and run to the kitchen. I’m worried about leaving mama alone. She won’t
cope without me. I tried telling her I’ll go for initiation next year but she wasn’t having it. She’s fragile
and frail. Everyday I watch her slowly fading away. She looks young though. No I’m wrong, she looks
young for her age but in actuality she’s getting old. When I was younger, some 5 years ago, she was
happy and used to laugh a lot and had friends and was alive you know. Then father died and it was like
she died with him. She didn't even shed a single tear when he died she just held on to her pain, shut
everyone out and stopped living. I watched her wither away daily, bit by bit, retracting deeper and
deeper into herself. Now she’s just a shell of her former self, functioning and talking but hardly alive.
Looking at her now, it hits me that she’s getting old and that means she might not be around forever.
That just freaks me out because as much as I'm all she has, she's all I have. My brothers and their new
families don't really count.

“Bye mama. This is the last time you see me as a girl. The next time you see me I’ll be a woman!”, I say
to her as I watch her lazily scoop water from the big drum to the cast iron pot we use for boiling water. I
need to scrub that pot when I return, a thick layer of soot has built up and it takes forever to heat up
water now. Mama took forever to wake up this morning so I used the water I’d warmed for her. I don’t
remember if she was always this slow in doing everything or it’s also a side effect of father’s passing.
Even in responding, sometimes by the time the answer comes I’ll have forgotten the question.
“You’ll always be my little girl Lwezi, you know that”, she says. I smile at that. I love being little, it comes
with less stress. But we can’t escape growing up and in seven days I’ll be a woman. Still not looking
forward to it! I offer to stay home one last time but she says she will be just fine, I must go. I’m skeptical
but I turn around and walk away.

“Behave there and listen. Don’t let Nomasonto distract you!”, she shouts after me. At least she still
speaks up!

“Yes mama”, I shout back and skip away. She just had to wait for me to reach the gate before she starts
shouting bewares and cautions! I was standing right next to her less than a minute ago. Agh! Old people!
You can never understand.

Sonto is already at the cross road waiting for me. She isn’t herself and I can tell something is eating at
her. We walk towards MaDume’s home grateful for our blankets, as the morning breeze is quite
unforgiving today. It’s not far, just on the other side of the stream near the baobab tree.

There is no mistaking the big four cornered hut sitting at the back of the homestead. They really took
their time decorating this one. They overdid it though. All these patterns and drawings and markings of
different colours on one hut! It looks like a rainbow fell off the sky and splattered on the walls. It’s well
done but beautiful is not a word that can be used to describe it. Its roof looks freshly thatched and is
adorned by horns, I think of bulls because I’ve never heard of buffalos being hunted in this area.

We dip and go in between two layers of knock-off barbed wire. It’s rude I know to enter someone’s
home like this but the hut is right here and the gate is over there. So what makes more sense, going
around all the way to over there, getting in then walking right back here or sneaking in and you’ve
arrived at your destination? Exactly!

I’m shocked that we’re the last two to arrive! Are these girls really that excited? I honestly thought we
were early, I mean I woke up at the crowing of the first cock! Anyway, all that matters is we are here.
We are queens after all and we are never late, everyone else is early. Queen! Such a joke! If only that
stupidly handsome chief’s son could just look at me and make me royalty so I can use these kind of
statements and actually mean them.

We quickly join the other initiates on the floor, bringing the number to fifteen. I wonder why everyone
has their eyes cast down and sitting so politely like brides. We follow suit in case that was an instruction
given before we arrived. The sun is only rising now and the torture begins. MaDume orders us to go
outside and dab ourselves with the herb infused water she prepared to ward off witchcraft and wash
away any curses we brought to her home with us. She says the rising sun marks the beginning of our
new dawn. A reminder that time is moving forward. She says the light cast by the sun as it first surfaces
from the horizon is the purest light and we should bask in its energy. In single file we exit the hut, Sonto
and I bringing up the rear so we can gossip properly. We take enough water with our hands from the
huge metal tub sitting outside. It’s freezing and I’m cursing in my head but I take it like the woman I’m
about to become.

We lose our modern dresses in exchange for something more appropriate for this transition into
womanhood. We excitedly take turns coating our entire bodies and faces with red soil. Then we put on
skirts made from animal hide and beads. Beads on our necks, ankles, waists, wrists and heads. Our
breasts, or lack of in my case, are bare. It’s only females here anyway. We all just look ridiculous when
we are done, but I’ve never been one to voice my opinions out loud in public, so I laugh inside. We look
like something cut out of rock. If we were to lie down on anthills we would blend and disappear. We
look like earth.

Then the interesting part. We have to line up and go towards MaDume’s son, the only non-female in
sight. I don’t know where he emerged from because I swear he wasn’t there a minute ago! So the deal
is, you tell him the name of a man you wish to marry and he writes it on your back. He could be writing
lies we wouldn’t know, most of us can’t read. But he goes to school so we trust him. This writing of a
man’s name on our backs is more like a prayer request but traditional. I hear three of the girls in front of
me say ‘Ngqabutho’ and giggle as the name is written on their backs.

I feel a wave of anger well inside me. He’s mine, all mine! He might not know it yet and he probably
doesn’t even know I exist but he’s mine! Those little brats should stay away from my future! Sonto has
her boyfriend’s name written then when it’s my turn I whisper ‘Ngqa’ and have the name tattooed on
my back. See, I’m the only one serious about him, I even shorten his name! Not those three girls that I
wish could trip, fall and die.

I was the last. We all sit along the inside wall of the hut, huddled together, waiting for further
instructions. This is so wrong. Maybe only four of the fifteen of us here can pass as women. Little
women for that matter. The rest of us are just kids! I’m terrified. I don’t think a week is enough to
prepare me for what lies ahead. I’m not there yet and I might need another decade or three before I get
there. I think I’m what they call a late bloomer. But again I’m fifteen going on sixteen soon and fifteen is
the age a girl comes of age. It’s not like there’s anything else going on for us. No school, nothing. Besides
they say the sooner we start making children the easier it will be and the more time we’ll have to make
a whole squad. I don't want a child yet though, I wouldn't know what to do with it.

There's so much I don't know so maybe Sonto was right. Me of all people need this the most. After this
week I'll be ready to be wifed and suitors of all shapes and sizes and ages, married and unmarried, will
be flocking knowing we are now legal. I don’t think I’ll be ready ready but I know I’ll be expected to be,
and that scares the living daylights out of me. I have no clue how to live without my mother.

“Focus Lwezi”, I silently hush myself.

We have three initiators, I call them teachers because they more of teach than initiate. They take turns
preaching. They say initiation is a guided journey from childhood to being a woman. The process is to
help us embrace our tradition and pride ourselves in our culture. I wish they could just stop beating
about the bush! Initiation is all about getting a man, marrying him and serving him for the rest of your
life! I refuse to believe that’s our sole purpose on earth. There must be more to women than just that. I
don’t know what but I’m convinced there must be more.

They keep preaching tirelessly and in my head I keep rolling my eyes each time they drop a ‘men’
statement.

“You respect men at all times and you never ever talk back”.

“You do everything your husband wants, the way he wants it, and you do it with a smile!”

“Think of your husband as your chief. What he says goes and his word is final!”

All I hear is do this for men, do that for men, treat men like so, don’t make men angry or they will beat
you up. Well he might just beat you up anyway because he loves you too much and jealousy is driving
him to do it. The one woman actually says a man that never lays a hand on you doesn’t love you much.

If I thought I was scared of marriage before now I know I never want it anywhere near me. I can’t handle
all these things being preached here. No one ever laid a hand on me. My own father never hit me so
why would someone else’s son feel like they have the right to? I cringe each time they tell us what we
must be ok with. Of all the things, the one about being beaten as a sign of love is not sitting well with
me. You mean to tell me that someone will love me so much his love will overflow and burst out of his
body in the form of punches and kicks? Honestly?

When question time comes I brave it for once and raise my hand.

“Lwezi”, MaDume says.

“But what if he beats me to death. What then?”, I ask.

“Then we bury you! Termites are always hungry for fresh meat”, she says coldly like it’s the most natural
thing. I gasp and words fail to form.

“But if I die, what will my husband do?”, another timid looking initiate asks.
“That’s supposing you’re the only wife. If let’s say you’re the only wife then your family will have to
replace you with your sister or cousin or whatever relative is fertile and available at the time”, she says. I
think I’m going to be sick.

Then the discussion shifts to the dreaded s-word. Sex. What it is, how it is done and why it is done. They
say it’s mostly for enjoyment. I always assumed it was a practice reserved for reproduction purposes
only!

“You can never deny your husband your body. Once you accept his hand in marriage and your family
accepts his cattle, you are no longer yours. He owns you and you will give him what he wants, when he
wants it, how he wants it”, the eldest initiator says. Great ancestors! Such barbarism! He will have his
own body, why would he need mine as well?

I sit on my folded legs and force myself to be a good girl and listen attentively. I grasp at every word
because I know on my wedding night I’ll be alone and I’ll be expected to know what the heavens to do.
And all this marriage advice will come in handy one day. Hate it as I may, from the day I was born female
my path was set for me and resisting knowledge can only be tantamount to digging my own grave.

I watch the 0lder women talk enthusiastically, using exaggerated hand gestures and I don’t know why
they are using raised voices! I mean we are sitting right here, we can hear them alright. They are dressed
like the typical woman in this village. A doek clumsily tied on the head, a dress on the body and a Zambia
tied on the waist, spoiling even the nicest of dresses. Their hands look callused from handling hoes in
the fields and breaking off branches for firewood and painting huts and floors with mud and everything
in between. Their skins look dark and distressed from the weather I suppose. It gets really blazing hot
down here.

Lunch couldn’t have gotten here faster! I need to get out of this hut and breath. It’s just day one and
good elders I’m exhausted. I suffer from my short concentration span so trying to stay focused was a
mission and a half. The day is not even done yet and I already want to run away. How I will make it
through day seven, I have no idea. I’m already annoyed by some of these girls and I can’t wait to return
home. I thought round about now I’ll be beginning to feel womanish but if anything I’m realising more
and more how much of a child I am. I’m not yet a woman and won’t be for a very long time. So what’s
going to happen? I’ll graduate a woman even if I’m not? Or am I expected to grow up right now? What
must happen?

I’m sitting with Sonto under a tree just outside the yard, sharing a bland lunch of sorghum pap and bitter
wild spinach. It tastes as horrible as it looks but apparently this cultivar enhances womanity, whatever
that means. We’ll be eating the same meals every day. That just makes me so miserable. I’m already skin
and bones as it is and I can’t afford to lose any more body mass. For breakfast we had mabele porridge
and for supper we’ll have sorghum pap again but with pumpkin leaves. They said pumpkin leaves are a
boost for fuller breasts. I might need five portions of that relish then. But wait, so no meat whatsoever?
Someone kill me now!

Sonto has been bored since we got here and she’s doing very little to hide it. I don’t think she’s bored
bored but more like scared and worried. See, dear friend here is not a virgin and I don’t think she’s
looking forward to explaining what exactly she did with her hymen. I feel for her but I don’t see how I
can help her there. The whole village will know after this and I think that’s what’s really worrying her.
People already think her body is mature because it’s been touch-touched by boys and this will just make
them say ‘Vele we knew!’.

I try to chat her up but her mood remains despondent and I can’t seem to get through to her. So I just
move over and sit next to her and put my arm over her shoulders. I’m right here for her. I lost my
appetite the moment I laid eyes on this food so no more eating for me. I resort to watching people. I see
those three women, our teachers, standing together, occasionally laughing and clapping each other’s
hands. You can tell from their stances that they are gossiping! Just looking at them, I fail to understand
who thought making them initiation school teachers was a great idea! They are the most unsuitable
candidates!

The first is the owner of the home, MaDume. She’s married with eight kids. Eight is not an unusual
number around here. The more kids one can pop out, the more womanly they are regarded. Kids are
goals around here! And those with plenty children do well in the fields because they have unlimited
child labour. One can just tell by looking at uMaDume that she is deeply scarred. She looks older than
she is and her eyes are sunken all the way back into her skull. She’s worn her pain on her face for so long
it has left imprints and those bags under her eyes have become permanent. Her missing tooth was
knocked out by her husband on one of his beating-her-up missions. She always looks like she’s about to
cry. It’s no secret that her husband loves spreading his seed and comforting young widows. Some even
say he practices witchcraft and that he kills husbands so he can ‘comfort’ the widows. Just unverified
rumours. Clearly she cannot please her man enough to keep him from straying but is surprisingly a
teacher at the initiation school. The irony.

The second is MaMoyo, an old widow. She can barely walk straight but is harsh with the needles on the
back of the girls, with her shaking hand. I witnessed that today and trust me I’m not looking forward to
her lessons. She held needles under one of the girls’ back as the girl arched upwards away from the
floor, balancing with her elbows and heels of her feet. Apparently, that’s meant to strengthen a girl’s
back all in the name of pleasing men! I think I hate men more and more each day. Tiring before the time
is up means falling on the needles, a worse fate than cramping. MaMoyo has been a widow for as long
as I’ve known her. Her late husband had three wives and she was the first! Now that makes me wonder
how if she knows so much about keeping and pleasing a man, she ended up being replaced with not one
but two women!
The third is Sis Nobuhle. She’s still called by her first name because she has never been married or had
kids therefore does not deserve the due respect. She is a cranky someone who snaps at everyone and
handles us with blatant anger and resentment. I pity her. Life dealt her a savage blow by denying her
one of these men we seem to have been born to please. But now that makes me wonder even more.
Why is she allowed to teach us about getting and keeping men? What does she know about that?

Elders around the village describe me as a good girl, because I cast my eyes down, genuflect, greet and I
never say no. They tell their children to be like me! If only they could hear the voices in my head they
would retract their compliments quick. My mother always says my brain is too grown for my body. If she
was here and could hear my thoughts right now, she would pull my ear and tell me to leave grown up
thoughts to grownups.

I’ll make it over this bridge and I’ll listen to the teachers. At least I’ll try. The saying goes ‘do as they say
not as they do’, after all. It’s just seven days and my life will be back to normal! I don’t know what I
dread the most, the pulling and stretching of my you know or the virginity inspection or the practice of
sex moves or the endless talks. It will be a long seven days!

CHAPTER THREE

I thought day 7 would never get here! Everyday seemed longer the last and I’m so homesick I couldn’t
stop myself from crying earlier. At least today we graduate and I get to see mama. By evening I will be a
woman and I’ll be home. After the torturous lessons, the prodding, the intrusions and the rough
handlings of the past week I’m exhausted. I've had enough and all I yearn for right now is my mat and
blanket. And home.

One would think I would feel more womanly now and now know all the tricks of the woman-trade like
how to be a good mother and a good wife to whoever ends up with me, you know. But no, I feel nothing
of the sort. Not even remotely. If anything, I’m traumatised for life. Who knew being a woman was this
hard? Who came up with all those rules anyway? I’m certain it was a man or maybe a very masochistic
woman who really enjoyed pain and suffering.

I’ve decided to guard myself from the degradation and suffering awaiting me in marriage by remaining
unmarried. But I can’t decide what’s worse, the humiliation of being unmarried or the pains of being
married? They’ll marry me off anyway if I don’t willingly accept a proposal. “Quieten those thoughts
Lwezi!”, I chastise myself. I talk to myself a lot, usually silently, because I’m the only one who
understands me. And most of my thoughts can never be voiced in this village. We’re a grounded people,
walking in the footsteps of our ancestors, doing as they did, living as they did and ever so careful not to
upset them. They are quite vengeful and harsh.

Am I the only one who wonders if what’s going on here is fair? Something has to change, I don’t know
what but something has to. I was born the only girl in a family of boys and my father treated me like I
was special. He always said I should grow up and be whatever I wanted to be. I wish he was still alive so I
could ask him what he meant by that. What I want to be can never be accepted here. I want to grow up
and only be a woman when I’m ready. I want to get married and have children when I’m ready. I want
people to stop being mean to Sonto because they don’t know half of it. I want to be allowed to be a
child a little while longer, then when I grow up, I want to be beautiful and marry the chief’s son and be a
princess and be happy. Yes, I want to be happy.

I try to sit up but the stabs of pain in every joint make it hard. My whole body is stiff from being forced
to contort beyond its ability. I fell twice on those needles and now my back is on fire. If I was asked how
I performed during my last seven days, I wouldn’t even lie. I would say I did horribly. Not that I didn’t try,
I did believe me, I just couldn’t. But I don’t care. I should be worried I suppose but all I can think of right
now is sleeping alone without snoring girls around me, washing this soil off my body and seeing my
mother so I can tell her everything. I’m starving as well and I’m praying please, let there be meat at the
festival.

“Come Sonto, let’s go and get ready for the final dance”, I say, standing up then giving my friend a hand.
“They’ll be checking our virginities before the festival”, she says. The pain in her voice is making me
want to take out my own virginity and give it to her. But I’m not sure if that can be done. Can it? Maybe I
can. I mean Bongani took hers so she can borrow mine to replace it and maybe when she’s done being
checked she can bring it back. That way we both pass and no one will ever know her secret. Or she can
have it and keep it and I fail the test. I’d rather it be me who deals with the crowd. I’m good at shutting
down voices so I’ll just let them talk and I’ll listen but I won’t hear them. I hate seeing her like this.

I tell her my brilliant idea. She gives me a weak laugh and holds my hand. “Lwezi, you’re so naive it’s
priceless. Your innocence is beautiful. It’s a pity you have to grow up today”, she says. I think she gave
me a compliment but she did not address my idea so I’m still not sure if it will work or not. I offer again
and she shakes her head sadly and says you only get one shot at it and once it’s gone, it’s gone.

She doesn’t deserve to be this sad. And now that they are going to find out, she’ll be shamed and her
bride price is going to drop to an embarrassingly low number of cows. It’s hurting me seeing her like
this. She’s always been free spirited and some might say, unruly. Besides, she might giggle about it and
joke about it but she never wanted this. She’s just laughing to mask her true feelings. She had to own
what she had done to stop it from eating at her soul. If she could she would undo it, I know. She would
have never walked into that hut! And if I could go back in time I would have done more to stop it.
She says she was playing around with her boyfriend, Bongani, when he suddenly wanted to go all the
way. She says she didn’t want to do it but he insisted and said he would tell everyone she wasn’t a virgin
if she refused. She’d said no still and tried to get up and run out and that’s when he had punched her
and gone all the way anyway. They had been doing ukusoma (a simulation of sex) for a while and I guess
Bongani got tired of just playing around and needed to do what a man should do, at least that’s what
Sonto says he said. Ukusoma makes sure that the girl preserves her virginity and the man receives his
pleasure. Both parties win. So I still don’t get why he became so greedy and hurt my friend like that.

So usually I would wait outside the hut Bongani shared with his brothers so that I can knock on the door
when someone was coming. On that day I was standing guard outside as usual when I heard Sonto
screaming and crying and begging him not to do it. I wasn’t sure exactly what he wasn’t supposed to do.
I tried to open the door but it was barred from the inside. I couldn’t go and find help because I had
promised never to tell. She sounded like she was in pain but I couldn’t be too sure because maybe that’s
how it was sometimes, I mean I never listened to them. I don’t know, up to date I have no idea what
exactly sex or ukusoma entail. So I stood there by the door, feeling helpless, listening to my friend cry
and beg him to stop because it hurt. I remember standing there with my face on the door, crying too
and not knowing why exactly. Her screams were stabbing at my hear and what ever was going on in
there was wrong, I could feel it.

After a long time, Bongani opened the door, looked at me up to down and said “Go in, take your friend
and go. Tell her I want her here tomorrow, same time”. He had then walked away and I’d run in. Sonto
was huddled on the floor, sobbing and mumbling ‘please stop’ over and over. I’d helped her up because
we needed to leave before anyone showed up. I saw the blood on her dress and I asked if he’d hurt her.
She had just nodded and continued crying. Her eye was swelling rapidly and she said he had punched
her. I asked her if that’s what love was like and she said yes, if he doesn’t beat you up he doesn’t love
you. The words were empty and cold like she was repeating something she had been told not something
she believed.

I had helped her, she could barely walk but we made it home and I cleaned her up. She squeezed in one
of my bigger dresses and we threw her bloodied dress down the toilet. She made me swear never to
repeat what I’d seen and what she had told me to anyone and of course I swore on my father’s grave.

I think that’s why I’m so terrified of sex. When I think of it I see Bongani and I just can’t think any further.
She was hurt. I tried to say maybe we should tell an elder but she reminded me that the whole village
would know if we spoke up so we let it go. The next day she asked that I go with her but I refused to go
and listen to her cry. She went anyway. She continued doing it because Bongani said that was the only
way she could show him that she loved him. She always has this naughty smile when she tells me about
their adventures but I’ve always thought the excitement coming from her mouth never matches the
hollowness in her eyes.

“You need to stop playing with Bongani like that Sonto”, I said to her once.

“He loves me and he’ll marry me. Besides I’ve already slept with him, I can never sleep with another
man. That would make me a slut!”, she said.

“But Nomasonto are you not afraid? He can give you a baby !”, I’d tried to talk sense into her.

“He says he won’t get me pregnant so I shouldn’t worry”, she said.

“Is it...Is it nice?”, I’d asked without meaning to. Curiosity had gotten the best of me as usual.

“I don’t know. It’s just, I don’t know. He enjoys it that’s what important”, she had said and quickly
changed the subject.

I don’t like Bongani at all. Something about him unsettles me. He’s nothing like my father and mama
always says I should only like men who resemble my father. Who are kind and caring and always protect
women. Bongani lacks all those qualities. Besides, he’s ugly!

That trip down memory lane has made me even more sure that I don’t want a man anywhere near me.
Pain is something I don’t enjoy. We must be the only ones still outside. All the other initiates are already
in the hut getting ready. “Come let’s go and get ready for the dance”, Sonto says suddenly alive and
smiling. But again her eyes betray her. She looks terrified. I take her hand in mine, try my best to cheer
her up and we go towards the hut. Since morning, women from around the village have been pouring in
to welcome us into womanhood.

It must be noon when we’re told to come outside. We are greeted by song and joy. The glee in the
voices that echo in the atmosphere is overwhelming. It’s finally time for the dance with the ancestors.
We emerge through the doorway, still looking like earth statues, dressed in short colourful skirts,
decorated in beads and our chests bare. At least our faces are unmasked today! Sonto braided beads
into my hair last night and she says I look beautiful. I think she looks even more beautiful. The silence
and the feeling of eyes staring at me make it awkward for a moment. Instinctively I cup my breasts to
hide my nudity but I’m quickly told by Sis Nobuhle the Bitter to “take those hands away from there! We
all have breasts here! You think yours are special?”. I look at her and giggle. I don’t know why she’s so
angry.

The crowd of women greets us and joins in song congratulating us on completing our journey to
womanhood. After applauds, ululation, dancing and clapping, we sit on one side and the crowd on the
other side. Each mother comes forward with a gift for each of the teachers as a form of gratitude.
Where’s my mother? I know she hates crowds and hates everyone and everything but she promised to
come today. I’m sure she’ll be here any minute now. I guess she’s running late as usual, slow as she is.

“What’s wrong? You look like your mind’s not here”, Sonto whispers. “Mama is not here”, I say and look
down. She takes my hand and squeezes it. “Don’t worry. I’m here for you”, she says. “Where’s your
mother?”, I ask and this time she’s the one who casts her eyes down. “She’s not coming”, she says.
“Why?”, I don’t understand. “She said she won’t come here and be humiliated in front of everyone. I
told her about Bongani because I think I’m, I think I’m..”. Before she can tell me what she thinks she is,
someone throws a shoe at us and we shoosh. The gifting ends and mama is still not here. My whole
mood is spoiled. I want mama to see me becoming a woman.

The next stage is the validation of purity. We join the queue of girls on the other side of the big hut for
our testing. One by one the girls go in, spend time in there then come out with MaDume behind them
shouting ‘she’s pure’ to which the women clap and ululate and dance and sing. I wonder what exactly is
being done in there.

Sonto is shivering and her teeth are clattering. I don’t know what to do to help her. I can't even imagine
how she's feeling right now. Then it’s just us two left. “Let me go first”, I say. “No Lwezi. You can’t leave
me here alone, let me rather go and get this over and done with”, she says, tears welling in her beautiful
eyes. I touch her hand and nod. “I’ll wait for you right here. I’ll stand guard outside this hut. If she hurts
you in there just shout I’ll come and take you”, I say. She smiles again, that smile she usually gives me
before she calls me naive.

Waiting is hard. I call one of the girls and ask what’s being done in there so that I know when it’s my
turn. She tells me that I’ll find MaDume sitting on a grass mat and I should lie on my back and spread my
legs for her. “She’ll just look inside and search for something then she’ll pour a liquid in there and if only
a bit flows inside then you’re good but if most of it easily flows in then you’re in trouble because it
means boys have opened you”, she says excitedly. I don’t quite get what’s exciting her. “Then she’ll tell
you to get up and she’ll come with you outside and tell people you haven’t been touched by boys.
Simple”, she says and skips away to join her friend.

As I’m still trying to process all this, I hear MaDume’s voice booming. “Witness a slut! As young as she is,
she already knows a man! She’s probably slept with all the men in the village this one. Shame on her”.
Everyone gasps and I see Sonto’s tears fall from her cast down eyes. I know she’s not a slut, not even
close and is it even possible to sleep with all the men in the village? How big would the hut be? I hear
laughter and women voicing their unasked for opinions and insults. Everyone expresses their
disapproval and judgement, even some initiates that I thought we’d made friends with!
Without thinking I run and stand next to my friend. “I’m also not a virgin”, I shout out. Sonto looks at me
with a frown. She doesn’t look impressed at all. I thought she would be grateful. “No Lwezi”, is all I hear
her say. More gasps. The women approach as if we're prey and they're ready to pounce. I feel like they
are more interested in me that Sonto, which is good. The whole idea was to draw attention from her.

“Who deflowered you”, one of the ‘taken seriously in this village’ women asks looking me in the face.
“A, umm, eeh!”, I didn’t think this through, did I? “Speak!”, she yells and I jump. “My boyfriend”, I say
and look at Sonto. I could use help over here like right now but she’s crying and not even looking at me.
Nice Sonto! “What’s his name?”, she asks. Her eyes are boring into me like screws. I keep quiet. “His
name!”, she yells loudly and without warning she slaps me with a backhand. I stagger, turn around
involuntarily and hit my head against the wall before I fall backwards and land flat on my bum. Maybe if
I had more cushion it wouldn’t have hurt this much. I see stars and glitters in front of my eyes. Now I
didn’t expect that.

“Leave her alone. She’s lying. Why are you hitting her?”, I hear Sonto screaming. “Shut up! You can’t
close your mouth just like you can’t close your legs!”, someone says. I can’t see or hear who because
that clap is still drumming in my ear. My vision clears a little, I can see mist and images are dancing but I
can see and that’s what's important. That woman is on her knees, leaning forward so much she’s in my
face. “His name Lwezi”, she says and I can tell she’s in no mood for playing. I look down and think hard. I
need a name fast. “His name now!” she yells and lifts up her hand. I cover my head with my hands and
scream “Ngqabutho”. The shock in everyone’s face when I lift my head up! I hope he never finds out
about this. “The chief’s son? Ngqabutho?”, she says standing up.

Dead silence has fallen over the yard, it’s like even the chickens stopped moving when I blurted out the
chief’s son’s name. I use the wall for balance and stand. “She had his name written on her back”, one of
the girls says. Stupid girl, who asked her! “Very well. It’s our job to report this. You'll not be returning
home tonight. Tomorrow morning we’ll take you to the chief’s home and Ngqabutho will answer for his
crimes”, she says. “He should marry you! Who else will want to marry second hand goods?”, another
loudmouth adds. “As for you Nomasonto, where will we start? We should probably call a gathering of all
the men in this village since you’ve slept with all of them”, Lady Important says.

It’s like it’s now an ‘let’s shout out all the synonyms for the word slut’ session. We are called all names,
most of which I’ve never heard of and some of which are funny. We’re told what an embarrassment
we're and how we’re not worthy of the term woman. I don’t mind really, I’ve never aspired to be a
woman, culture was forcing me! I’m happy to stay a girl forever. And I’m truly confused. These women
surely play with their husbands at night so if we’re a disgrace for having let boys touch us, doesn’t that
make them a disgrace too? I want to lift my hand and ask but maybe not.
I’m not even listening to what they are saying anymore. I’m thinking of how I’ll explain this to my
mother and brothers because I know they’ll hear about this. And Ngqabutho doesn’t even know me, so
what exactly will I say tomorrow when they take me there? We're escorted to a tiny hut at the back and
told to stay. We’re formally excluded from all the events that will follow since we already know men. I
don’t mind that. I wasn’t looking forward to beseeching my ancestors and washing my face in the blood
of a cow anyway. Yuck!

“You didn’t have to Lwezi! Now you’re in a lot of trouble. That’s the chief’s son!”, Sonto says wiping
away a tear that just ran down my cheek. “I had to Sonto. At least now it’s two of us instead of them
shaming you alone”, I say. “They will fine you a cow or cows which your family doesn’t have! You don’t
understand what you’ve done. You accused the chief’s son of sleeping with you”, she says. I hadn’t
thought of all that. Oh no. “Lwezi”, is all Sonto says before tears start welling in my eyes. What have I
done?

CHAPTER FOUR

Nothing is as disloyal as the sun! On days when it shouldn’t rise, on days you wish nightfall could linger
for a day longer, it rises. On days like today when I want to take refuge in darkness so I don’t have to
face the consequences of my actions, there it goes rising! I hardly slept a wink last night plotting and
planning my defence. What I did was big and not a good way. It took a while for my talkative brain to
shut up and understand the gravity of my words and when it finally hit home, I was left terrified. So as
the sun rises today so does my fear. There goes the promise of any future, bleak or bright or whatever, I
had. Who would have thought my mouth would be my undoing? As quiet as I am.

All I wanted was to save Sonto. What they were doing to her wasn’t right and I thought maybe if they
attack the both of us she would feel better. Well she didn't. If anything she felt worse because she’s
dragged me down with her. I realise now how stupidly stupid I was. That’s the problem you see. I always
speak in my head to myself and never express my true thoughts out loud. Because when I speak my
thoughts come out as they are, raw, unrefined and unthought through. Who ever said silence is golden
was right. Words are like stones, once thrown they cannot be taken back. Yet as much as I feel bad for
saying what I say, I don’t feel bad about the intention of my action. She’s my best friend and no way was
I going to stand by and watch her being shredded to pieces!

What’s done is done. So now I have to either maintain that I’m not a virgin and stick to saying that truly
the prince did the nasty S with me or come out and tell the truth. I tried the later last night but the
women shut me down quick. My only hope now is that Ngqabutho is not around. He’s usually in the city
and when he’s around, he hangs out with his friends at the shops and goes down to the river around
sunset with the boys that herd his father’s many cows. In the last week before initiation began, I didn’t
see him so I’m hoping he’s still away. Yes I know his schedule, no I’m not a stalker. Not exactly at least.
We are escorted out of the yard and although everyone is talking about us, no one is talking to us. Only
three women will be going with Sonto to Bongani’s home while everyone else is following me to the
chief’s home! I hold on to Sonto, crying and begging her not to leave me but we are peeled off each
other by uncaring hands. “Just tell the truth Lwezi, maybe you’ll be shown mercy”, Sonto shouts as they
drag her away. As we take our different paths my fear becomes real. I’m crying rivers and keep
stumbling as I can hardly see the path through the tears. I’m terrified and for the first time my mind is
dead quiet. I have no idea what I’ll say or how I’ll explain my lies. What if they ask me how exactly we
did it? What will I say? How is it done? Oh great ancestors, I should have listened those times Sonto
tried to tell me.

I thought word would have reached mama by now and she would be here to save me. But she didn’t
come. Maybe she went straight to the chief’s homestead and is waiting for me there. This is bad and I’m
freezing, not that anyone here cares. Because I’m the only child here, I’m the only one topless and this
skirt suddenly feels shorter. I kind of didn’t graduate into womanhood yesterday because of my lack of
virginity. They said I ‘graduated myself’ which I suppose means I’m a woman now but they keep
referring to me as ‘child’ so I’m confused. Maybe I’m half a woman, I’m not sure.

I scream ‘I lied’ in my head but when I open my mouth my words turn into mist and dissipate into the
cold morning breeze. I hate the cold because now my nipples are rocks and they hurt so much. I keep
rubbing them to lend them some warmth but the women keep telling me to stop touching myself. I
think I hate all of them.

The chief must have been told that his son is busy deflowering other children because from where we
stand now, outside the front gate, I can see a group of about 12 men gathered at the Dale/Dare (Panel
of elders). One man, whose face I can’t put a name to, is visibly upset and is talking, shaking his
knobkerrie in the air. It looks funny from here and I’m cheered up a little. But I don’t dare laugh out
loud. I scan the crowd quickly but I don’t see Ngqabutho. ‘Yes, he’s not around’, I say in my heart. What
a relief!

“I hope they banish you”, a voice says and I turn around and my eyes fall on some woman I have never
even spoken to. How can a stranger wish such misfortune on me though? What did I do to these
people? Why are these women so angry? See why I don’t want to be a woman, I don’t aspire to end up a
ball of anger rolling!

The chief’s messenger comes and greets everyone. It’s funny and weird to see a man genuflecting but I
guess if you were born to serve then such is life. “The victim will be placed in a secluded hut at the back
while the rest of you represent her before the panel of elders”. They nod. Seriously, these women are
expected to ‘represent’ me. They will not hesitate me to throw me under the scotchcart. I won’t get a
fair trial I know because to everyone I’m a little leg-opener and I’m guilty. Where the hades is my
mother?

I wish I could live here, in this home, even for a week. This place looks like heaven and is nothing like the
rest of the village. The huts are not round or small or made from mud like ours. They have corners and
the roof is asbestos. All the houses look freshly painted, not with mud but with real paint, and the whole
place just looks fresh and clean. The ground is level and unlike the barrenness that floors our yard, this
one has uniform soil carpeting the entire yard. There’s an orchard at the back of the yard and on the
right the biggest kraal I have ever seen stands, housing I guess thousands of cows. I wish I was rich too,
life would be so much easier.

I’m shoved ungently into a room and the door closes me in. It’s the smallest here but it’s bigger than our
biggest hut. It’s empty so I sit on the floor and lean against the wall. I pray reverently that I don’t get
banished. Where would I go? Who would take care of mama? They can maybe fine me a cow or a goat
maybe? I’m sure my brothers can make a plan about that.

I wonder how Sonto is doing and I wonder why mama is not here. I hope she’s still on her way and when
I’m summoned she’ll be there to plead my case. I’m still lost in my thoughts when I hear the door creak
open. I sit up and my jaw drops. Can this day get any worse?

Ngqabutho walks in and closes the door behind him. My heart is beating so fast it might just break out
of my chest, my palms are sweating, the hairs on my arm stand, my breasts hurt even more and I feel
funny in my stomach. I don’t know what this feeling is. He looks better than father even and I used to
think my father was a god you know.

“Hello wife”, he says and laughs. I wish the ground would swallow me right about now. Surely, he’s here
to kill me for accusing him of such a capital offence. I want to look away but I can’t, I sit there
unintentionally staring.

This is the first time I’ve seen him up close. He can’t be over 20 years of age. When he said that cheesy
‘hello wife’ I caught a glimpse of his perfect set of pearl white teeth that contrast flawlessly with his dark
skin. “Hello. Anybody home?”, he says and waves his hand as if to check if I’m alive. I stay still, still
staring. He’s dressed casually like most boys who have been to the city dress. He has on faded blue jeans
with holes on the knees and tattered on his left thigh but not showing much flesh. I wonder why he’s
wearing torn clothes, surely him of all people can afford proper clothes! He has on a plain black T-shirt
too. He looks simple but spirits, he’s magnificent!
He stands tall with perfect posture as he looks at me and asks if I’m alright. Handsome does not even
begin to describe him. He is the optimum work of the spirits. Like the day before he was born all the
ancestors came together and said ‘Ok right, today let’s show off. Let’s give earth the perfect specimen of
what we can create’. His face looks almost celestial, his eyes are so dark I can’t tell if they are black or
brown and they command attention without him saying anything. His shoulders are upright like he could
maybe lift me up like I weigh nothing. And his arms, how can I say, they are hold-me-now strong arms of
a warrior. You know like if our village was to ever be under attack, we will be safe because with those
arms I’m sure he can single handedly defeat the enemy. His coarse black hair stands ruffled and
unkempt on his head and his lips are full and faultless, completing the look. The only thing off about him
is his ears. They are running away from his head but surely, with a face like that such a fault can be
excused. Boy, my mind just went overboard there. I could have just said he looks good and stopped
there!

I don’t understand the feeling sweeping through me right now or why I can’t stop ogling at this young
man. “Lwezi right?”, he says crouching in front of me and shaking my shoulder. His voice! Deep yet
gentle, melodious yet exuding strength, blissful music to my ears. Wow I got in a trance there staring at
him and now I’m back to being embarrassed. I drop my eyes and curl my toes. I suddenly feel self-
conscious. The realisation that my chest is bare makes me quickly cover up with my hands. He stands
and my eyes stand with him following his body upwards. He holds the bottom of his T-shirt and he takes
it off. My jaw drops and my hand shoots towards him and touches his stomach. Involuntarily. I just
needed to feel if those muscles would be as hard as they looked. He laughs and I'm so embarrased. Why
am I acting like a fool today?

He stands in front of me and I’m on my knees since stupid me got up to touch a stranger. Topless,
showing off a torso chiselled with rope after rope of muscle strung across his dark skin. I feel myself
gasping for breath. He stole the breath right out of my lungs. Why am I feeling this way? Ok I need to
stop now, I think thinking about a man like this is considered inappropriate.

“Here, put this on. I can see you’re uncomfortable”, he hands me the T-shirt. I look down and recite a
line from initiation school, “A woman can’t touch clothes that are not her husband’s”. He laughs a little
and takes my hand and helps me up. “Technically I’m your husband, isn’t you told everyone that I slept
with you”, he says. “I’m sorry it’s just that my friend was…”, I start talking fast needing to explain myself
and maybe start begging for forgiveness. “Relax. I’m just kidding with you. Put this T-shirt on, you don’t
want me looking at you half naked and end up deflowering you for real now, do you?”, he says. I look
down and feel blood burn in my cheeks. “I’m kidding!”, he says. I take the T-shirt and put it on and I feel
better now that my nudity is hidden.
He walks back towards the door and I just blurt out, “Don’t leave”. He turns around and flashes me a
smile. That strange feeling in my stomach again! “I’m not leaving. Me and you are in serious trouble
young lady. We had sex before marriage and now had grumpy elders waking up at dawn to discuss our
disgrace. How exactly we had this sex I don’t know considering that I've no idea who you are”, he says. I
open my mouth to say something but my courage abandons me so I look down. I sit back down because
my knees are buckling.

“You know those elders are senseless! It would have saved them a lot of time and stress and energy if
they had just asked us. But no, they have to exaggerate and call a dale and talk about us”, he says. I
giggle at that. His thoughts echoed mine. “They woke me up at dawn! At dawn, can you imagine! For
what?”, he says. I almost respond then realise that might have been a rhetorical question. “So you’re
Lwezi right?”, he asks and I nod. “That’s a beautiful name what does it mean, surely it’s not just
November”, he says. I giggle. “It is. I was born in November hence the name”, I say. “Oh! So my parents
are not the only ones who don’t put effort in naming their children!”, he says. I look at him with ‘explain’
eyes. “I’m the first born and they called me Ngqabutho, they didn’t even try”, he says.

“It must be a thing in this village!”, I make a sudden realisation. “Yep, this rocky village was named
Matombo (Rocks)”, he says. “Yes, even my friend Nomasonto was born on a Sunday and she was named
after that”, I say giggling. “Your friend Nomasonto, is she the one you took a bullet for?”, he says. “A
bullet?”, I ask. I don’t know what that means. “I mean she’s the one you were trying to protect when
you claimed to have been bedded by me?”, he says suddenly serious. I nod and look down. “Are you a
virgin? Sorry to ask and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want”, he says. “I am”, I say. “So why did
you say you slept with me? Why me? You could have said any guy around here but you said me. Why?”,
he says. “I don’t know”, I say. “Tell me”, he says looking at me. His eyes command attention and looking
into them is my mistake because I find my mouth telling the truth. “I want you to be my husband”, I say.
That sounded better in my head.

He laughs that short laugh of his. “You know that’s not possible. Even if let’s say I so desired to marry
you, I can’t. My wife was set for me the day she was born”, he says and looks down. I think he sounds
sad. “That’s a good thing right? You’re a prince and you get whatever you want, you don’t even have to
suffer looking for a wife, she’ll be handed to you like a gift. Whatever you want you get”, I say. He looks
at me for a while as if studying my face. “No, that’s not what I want. I want so many things that I can
never have. I want girls to be treated better, things like this which they’re doing to you right now, I want
it to stop. I want to suffer chasing after a girl and fall in love and find my own wife. I want girls to come
to school with us. I want to make mistakes and live without the title ‘prince’ and all the burdens that
come with it hanging over my head. I want so many things but I can’t have them. My path was decided
for me before I was even born”, he says.

It’s like this boy lives inside my head! If he wasn’t perfect earlier, now he is. “You don’t enjoy being a
prince?” I ask. I find that hard to believe. I mean I’d give anything to be a princess. “I’m indifferent about
it. It comes with its goods and its bads. I want more, I’ve been to school and I’ve read books and I know
there’s a world out there waiting for us to explore it. This life we’re living here, this is not life. I’ve been
to the city many times and beginning of next year I’ll be going to University”, he says. “What’s a
university?”, I ask. “It’s a school, way bigger than the one here”, he says. I would love to ask more about
this university but I know so little about school I’ll probably just come out sounding ignorant and dumb.

“So you’ll be leaving the village for ever?”, I ask. I don’t know why that hurt. “No. I’ll be coming home
on holidays. Besides, one day when father passes on I’ll have to return here for good and be a chief”, he
says. “Maybe you can change things then, when you’re chief you know”, I say. “Maybe, we’ll see. It’s
just negotiating with ancestors is hard work, they never give a direct answer! On the positive, I’ll be able
to take as many wives as I want, maybe you’ll make the cut, who knows?”, he says and adds a feigned
laugh.

A loud knock comes on the door and whoever is outside is trying the door vigorously. Ngqabutho comes
to me, crouches and whispers. “It’s time now, say very little, only speak when you’re spoken to and say
you don’t know if you don’t want to answer a question. Actually, you know what, say nothing, leave the
talking to me”, he says. He then turns around and goes to open the door. I follow. The messenger’s face
when he sees him there! I was supposed to be secluded. I’m wearing the T-shirt and now I’m standing
next to Ngqabutho feeling really small. “Ngqabutho! Such disrespect! You were being inappropriate here
with your little harlot while the elders were debating your case?”, he says. “Listen to me. Firstly, you
never raise your voice at me. Secondly, you never call her or any woman for that matter a harlot.
Thirdly, you’ve forfeited your right to call me by name!”, Ngqabutho says. He went from zero to hundred
angry in a split second. “Yes my prince”, the older man says, bows and scurries away.

“These people! Who will protect our women when we can’t?”, he says. “Come”, he says. I stand rooted
and shaking. “Will they banish me?”, I ask. He looks at me pitifully. “If I was chief I wouldn’t but sadly I’m
not my father so I don’t know”. That’s not very comforting. I stay rooted and he grabs my hand and
drags me all the way to were the elders are gathered. Everyone either gasps or exclaims or claps their
hands to express their shock when they see us approach hand in hand. It doesn’t help that I’m wearing
his T-shirt. This is bad.

Since we are the accused we sit at the centre. A looooong story about culture and tradition and why legs
must stay closed and how Ngqabutho should have never touched me is narrated. Then the chief clears
his throat and I know it’s about to get real. “Ngqa, what is this?”, he sounds more annoyed than
anything and I get the feeling that he’ll rather be elsewhere than here. “Father, she’s just a little girl. She
has no idea what she was saying”, he says. “She claimed that you slept with her. So she lied? She
wrongfully accused you of this?”, the chief says. Ngqabutho keeps quiet. He said I must not speak so I
remain mute. “Do you know her?”, the chief asks. “Yes. We’ve been friends for a very long time”, he
says. I raise my eyes a little. Why is he lying? “I see. Did she wrongfully accuse you or not? I need to give
a judgement, I don’t have all morning!”, the chief says.
“Father, may I have an audience?”, Ngqabutho says standing up. I still can't believe he came here
topless and me dressed, it should be the other way round. “Granted, get on with it and let’s conclude
this”, the chief replies. He's sounding more and more annoyed by the second. “I strongly believe that
these women are the ones who have offended me. I believe they lied and fabricated all this. It is them
that should be on trial for accusing me of such an unspeakable deed”, he says, sounding angry. What's
he doing? Before anyone can respond, he adds on, “This is a waste of time and as the prince of
Matombo I demand justice. These women have wronged me and they are using an innocent girl to get
to me. Now I’ll be the talk of the village and your good name, father, will be tainted”, he says. I gasp and
so does everyone else around.

“Ngqabutho!”, the chief says standing. “Father, all I ask for is that they go and confirm if she's still intact
or not then we take it from there”, he says. He looks down at me briefly before he sits down. I don't
know why he's doing this for me. He could have simply said he doesn't know me and has never seen me
before and I get banished or whatever and life goes on.

It's chaos all around until the chief orders everyone to be quiet and tells the women to take me and give
me the check up. This check up business is quite intrusive though. I just close my eyes and let them open
me up. You'd swear me having a hymen is the most horrible thing on earth! All that excitement and
resentment on their faces is gone. And as they report back to the elders, Ngqabutho gives me a subtle
wink and I blush.

I'm given an apology and dismissed. The women are told to stay behind to explain why they fabricated
such lies about the prince. Serves them right! Now I can go home and see mama. Maybe she forgot
about me, she hasn't been ok for a while.

“Wait. I'll walk you”, Ngqabutho says as I walk towards the gate. “I need to grab a T-shirt quick and we
go”, he says. He speaks differently from the boys around here. His speech sounds relaxed and unforced
and improper. His sentence construction is poor and some words he uses are remixed but I suspect his
way of speaking is intentional. I like it.

He disappears into one of the houses and comes back in a plain white T-shirt and we walk. I think it's
wrong for us to walk together like this with the elders there but I don't resist. As he takes my hand in
his, I let him. I don't know why he's being so kind. I mean he doesn't know me really. This is the first time
he's seen me. “Thank you for helping me back there”, I say. “Don't mention it. I'm just still amused that
you said I slept with you. It's funny”, he says. “I'm sorry. I don't even know what sex is!”, I say and
immediately remember why I should never voice my thoughts! They should stay locked up in my head!
He laughs. “I'm sure you'll know one day. With the right person it’s the most amazing thing ever but with
the wrong person it can be a nightmare”, he says. I'm confused but I won't ask. “Have you umm done it
before? I mean you're not married”, I say. He laughs again. He laughs a lot and I'm no longer sure if he'll
be laughing at me.

“Obvious! Do I look like a virgin to you?”, he asks. I don't know what virgins look like so I don't respond.
“I had a girlfriend in the city, a very good girl, liberal, wild and free. But it didn't work out so we ended
things”, he says. “Why didn't it work out?”, I ask. “I had to man up and prepare for my marriage. I'll be
wedding next month so there was no more space for her in my life. I asked that she waits and I take her
as a second wife someday but she wouldn't have it”, he says.

He sounds sad. He's wedding next month? That makes me so sad. So now I have to start looking for
another husband! I'll be turning 16 next month. I'm getting old too fast. He says he has to go back now
and sleep since he was wrongfully woken up at dawn. “Here's your T-shirt”, I say taking it off. “No. Keep
it”, he says, then he turns around and walks away. I watch him get further and further away, walking
with a perfect stride. Never once does he look back.

I've no idea why he opened up to me so much. He should be hating me for bringing all that drama into
his home but no. He was kind and I've no doubt he'll make a fine chief one day.

CHAPTER FIVE

My heart skips with me as I hop and skip towards home. Ngqabutho made my morning, my day, my
entire year even. I’ve never had a friend who’s a boy before and I don’t know if him and I are friends
now. He said I must shout if I ever need anything and he laughed when I pointed out that I don’t think I
can shout loud enough from my home for him to hear me.

The way he handled those women, with a serious face even, is still making me smile. And he’s so easy to
talk to. When he spoke about doing it with his city girl, for the first time I considered that maybe the
nasty S isn’t so nasty after all. He made it sound good and almost enjoyable without even giving any
details. Now I wish I had asked more but I just get nervous around him and say all the wrong things then
he laughs at me. And for a future chief he really disregards our traditions! He wasn’t even ashamed of
having done the deed before marriage!

I see home now so I break into a run. I jump over the sleeping fence and run in. Something must be
wrong because all my brothers are here! They rarely visit and when they do they’re always in a rush to
leave. But today they are all here, sitting under the tree and their stance tells me that whatever they are
discussing is serious. I want to run to mother’s hut but it will be rude to not greet them. They are older
than me.

It’s too quiet here today, so quiet the silence is too loud. Even the chickens and dogs seem to have
abandoned the yard. The only movement I can see is the shadows of vultures flying above in a circular
formation. I look up at them and I get a feeling that something is gravely wrong. I proceed to my
brothers anyway, they might shed some light on this for me. “Hello. How are you?”, I say going down on
both knees and shaking their hands one by one. “Sisi”, they all say at once. They fell dead silent when
they saw me. I wonder what’s up with that. “What’re you doing here?”, I ask. “It’s our home too you
know”, my corny brother says. He always had attitude! I don’t have the energy to deal with them right
now. And if they know about my shenanigans they don’t betray possessing that knowledge. It’s like they
can’t wait for me to leave so I make things easy for them and get up.

As I approach mama’s hut, I hear a continuous groaning coming from inside. I run in shouting ‘mama’
and fall on my knees on her mat side. She doesn’t look good at all. I can’t believe in one week someone
can lose so much weight! I can see her cheekbones protruding from her dry face and her hair looks
super thin.

I take a deep breath. I can’t cry. When it comes to mama I have to be strong, I’m all she has and I’ve had
to be strong for her more times than I can count. “What’s wrong mama?”, I ask, my voice so thin I doubt
she heard me. She says she hasn’t been well for days now and has been waiting for me. “Waiting for me
to do what? Whatever it is, tell me I’ll do it. I’m here now”, I say, taking her hand into mine. She feels so
cold. “Oh Lwezi”, is all she says before coughing uncontrollably and signalling me to get out with her
hand. I cover her up and tell her I’ll be outside. I’m sure it’s just a cold, I’ll make her tea and she’ll be just
fine.

“She has to be buried next to father”, I hear my eldest brother say as I approach from behind them.
“What? Are you making funeral arrangements? For mama? She’s alive and she’ll be just fine”, I scream
at them. “She’s dying Lwezi, stop acting like a child!”, my corny brother says. I turn around and run. I
keep running, wishing to get as far away from the possibility of my mother dying as possible. The voice
of my eldest brother telling me to come back fades into thin air behind me. I don’t stop until I make it to
the chief’s home. I didn’t mean to come here, I just did. The elders are still at the gathering when I shoot
past them and run behind the kitchen and to the house Ngqabutho disappeared to earlier when he said
he needed a T-shirt.

To my surprise and relief, none of the elders follow me and from here they can’t see me. My legs give up
on the doorstep but I force my knuckles to knock. My chest is burning and begging for oxygen and my
throat is dry and scratchy. I knock again and again and again. Nothing. Maybe I have the wrong house.
My mind is so baffled by the sudden turn of events that it’s failing to grasp onto meaningful thoughts. I
shouldn’t be here I know but I do the opposite anyway. I sit by the door leaning back onto it. Mama
can’t die. If she dies what will I do? I’ll be left all alone with nothing. I close my eyes and listen to my
shattered heart struggle to maintain a beat. Strangely, the rhythmic sound is soothing and lending me
some peace.

Just as my breathing begins to stabilise and my awareness is fading into oblivion, the door opens
abruptly and I fall in backwards. I land with a thump as the back of my head hits the floor. that hurt but
my heart hurts more so I let it go. “What the hell? Lwezi?”, he says. I must look silly right now because I
just lie there, my arms crossed on my chest, my eyes closed and tears running down the side of my face.
I can’t open my eyes right now and be brought back to reality. “Lwezi, what’s wrong?”, he asks. I remain
unresponsive. Can he give me a minute to just sleep, please. “You can’t be here! Did anyone see you
coming here?”, he asks. Silence still. They all saw me but I refuse to speak. “God dammit!”, he says
before taking my arms and dragging me inside. He kicks the door shut and quickly bolts it. I remain lying
still on the floor like a corpse. I refuse to feel.

He lifts me up and carries me in his arms like a baby and for a second I think he’s going to throw me out
of the window. “Why are you here?...........You’re crying”, he says, his voice dropping to the softest I’ve
heard yet. “What’s wrong? Did anyone hurt you?”, he asks. Silence. “It’s alright, whatever happened
we’ll deal with it”, he says. He talks like he’s known me for a very long time.

A loud knock disturbs my stillness and only now do I panic. My eyes pop open and he gently puts me
down. “Shhhh”, he says, his index finger on his lips. “Crawl under the bed and don’t make a sound”, he
whispers. I don’t need to be told twice! He pulls his blankets down so no one can see under the bed. I
can’t see him now but I hear the door unbolt and open.

“Ngqabutho, whatever am I to do with you?”. I recognise that voice as the chief’s. “That girl? You’re
allowing her into your hut now?”, the chief says. “What girl father? I was sleeping and just like all your
servants you can’t let me rest!”, Ngqa says actually sounding sleepy. “Let me in”, the chief says. “By all
means old man. But please look around quickly for whatever it is you are looking for, I really need to
sleep”, Ngqa says actually sounding sleepy.

Silence. After a minute or forever from my point of view, the chief sighs. “Son. Remember you’ll be a
chief one day and you have to carry yourself with pride and respect. I know you’re young and believe me
I have no problem with all the things you do in the city but when you’re here, you have to remember
that the people are watching you”, he says. “Yes father. You know I’ll make a great chief one day. Half
the women in this village will be mine”, Ngqa says and they both laugh. I didn’t find that funny! “Women
are nothing but trouble. Have you seen how I struggle with my four? Sometimes I wish I could go far
away into the mountains and live in a cave alone”, the chief says and they laugh again. At least now I
know that he gets his laughingness from his father.
“One last thing, what you did earlier for that girl was noble and honourable. It made me proud. I know
you lied, you don’t know that girl but you stood up for her and that’s what a true leader does. I’m proud
of you”, the chief says. “But, you showed emotion! You were angry and you showed it. What did I teach
you about that?”, the chief continues. “That I should never show emotion! That I should never let
anyone read me. A true warrior never smiles”, Ngqa says as if reciting a creed. “Why?”, the chief says.
“For if people know my emotions, they’ll use them against me”, Ngqa says. “That’s it my boy. Never
forget that. Again, whatever you do away from here, if it makes you happy I have no problem with it,
but here Ngqabutho they’re all waiting for you to fail. Don’t give them the power to understand you for
they’ll turn around and use that to bring you down”, the chief says. “Yes father”, Ngqa says.

Silence again. “What are you still looking around for?”, I hear Ngqabutho say. “No nothing. I’ll be on my
way. Tell your girl she can come out from under the bed now, I’m leaving. Don’t get her pregnant!”, the
chief says and laughs. “Father!”, I hear Ngqabutho say. “What? Whatever you do, don’t! And no one
should see her leaving this hut, do you understand?”, the chief says and I hear his heavy footsteps walk
out.

This is embarrassing. How did he see me? I just want to die. I crawl out from under the bed and Ngqa
looks as shocked as I am. I say maybe I should leave but he pulls me into his arms and holds me there.
This is weird, I’ve never ever been held like this before. I don’t know what to do with my arms. And why
does his body so close to mine feel so good? I can feel his heart beat as he stays attached to me.

I don’t know what that hug was about. He holds me by the arms and walks me backwards until my back
is against the wall and he's standing in front of me. “So, what’s going on with you? Who did what to
you?”, he says. “Nothing. No one”, I say, looking down. “You can’t tell me you ran all the way from
wherever and came and died on my doorstep for nothing. Start talking now Missy!”, he says. He sounds
serious but not in a serious kind of way. Like he’s firm but not really. Even this backing me into a corner
should be wrong I think but it doesn’t feel that wrong.

“Mama is dying”, I say and it’s like those four words were all my eyes needed to start producing gallons
of tears. Saying it out loud made it too real and I can’t. I can’t live without my mother. I narrate
everything from my brothers to the vultures. “If she dies….I’ll kill myself too”, I say in between sobs. “No
Miss Thing you won’t be doing that. I’ll kill you myself if you kill yourself!”, he says. I chuckle through my
tears. This boy is not ok in the head.

“For real though, I’m sorry about your mother. I wish I could say she’ll be alright but me and you both
know that once the vultures circle then death lingers”, he says. “I don’t want her to die”, I say looking at
him through my glassy eyes. My crying is getting louder so he pulls me back into his arms and this time I
let my arms go around him. I cry into his chest trying very hard to remain silent.

“I need to go and be with her. I promised her I’ll be outside if she needs me”, I say, still sobbing. “I can’t
let you leave when you’re like this. Besides, you have to wait till the yard is clear”, he says. I lean back
against the wall, playing with my fingers still sobbing and sniffing. “Alright, I’ll sit right here then and
wait”, I say, dropping myself onto the floor. I land harder than I meant to and I let out an ouch. He
laughs at me! “Don’t be silly now. Come, jump into bed”, he says. What? “No! Never!”, I say. “Relax
sweetheart, I won’t deflower you”, he says with a smile and I blush. “No, I’ll sit here I’m fine”, I maintain.
“You know Lwezi I’m sleepy and grumpy as hell so I don’t have the energy to be arguing with you right
now. Get your pretty self off that floor and get into bed and let’s sleep”, he turns on his commanding
voice. I stay seated. He’s insane. “Don’t make me lift you up because you know I will”, he says. I’d like to
see him try.

I didn’t think he would follow through on the threat but he picks me up, opens the blankets and puts me
inside like I’m a doll. Oh wow. I’ve never slept on a bed before and this right here, this is life. It’s big and
soft and his blankets are different from any I know. They smell nice and they are white and smooth. I
want to sleep here forever. I move to the edge when he gets into bed.

“I’ll just hold you, I promise. I won’t do anything to you. If you’re uncomfortable you’ll just let me know
and I’ll sleep on the floor”, he says. I nod and I don’t know why. It feels strange as his whole body lies
parallel to mine. I feel his breath down my neck and I have no idea what the feeling going through me
right now is. My stomach keeps feeling funny and goosebumps form on my skin and I think I’m breathing
louder that I should.

“You said I’m pretty”, I think out loud to stop from feeling, then I quickly cover my mouth. I didn’t mean
to say that out loud. “Yes you are”, he says. “No I’m not!”, I protest. “You are”, he says. “And I love your
hair”, he says trying to run his hand through it but his fingers get stuck in the tangles. That makes him
laugh and I laugh at him laughing at me. “Your hair is beautiful”, he says. He keeps his fingers stuck there
in the mess that is my crown and keeps sounding like he’ll fall asleep any second now.

I want to talk some more though. I need to keep talking so I can forget about mama. I turn around and I
quickly realise I shouldn’t have. His face is right here and his eyes are looking deep into mine. They are
hard to look into but I force myself to hold the stare. “You are the most handsome boy in the world”, I
find myself saying. He smiles at me baring those teeth and I close my eyes. Why did I say that? “Am I
now?”, he says. I nod and keep my eyes closed. I’m so not looking at him ever again in my life. I feel him
trace a finger along my jawline but my eyes remain closed. “Hey”, he says. No response. “Look at me”,
he says. No thank you.
I shouldn’t have closed my eyes. An image of mother, thin and shrunken, flashes though my mind and I
let out a shriek. “What’s wrong?”, he says sitting up. “Mama”, I say and let the tears come out to wet his
pillow. He doesn’t say anything but lies back down and pulls my small body into his. My one leg is
somewhere between his and his arms are all around me like a chain. It’s like my body dissolved into his.
He’s cradling me like a baby and it’s making me cry even more.

All this is strange to me. Just yesterday, I’d never been close to a boy and today I’ve held hands, hugged
and now I’m lying in bed under blankets with one. He keeps hushing me and telling me to cry it out. His
breath on my neck and his hands glued to my body are making me want to stay right here with him for
the rest of my life. I barely know him but I feel safe right here. When the crying lessens, he says I must
turn around so he can hold me till I sleep. I don’t fight him on that. I fit my body into his and even
though my heart is sore, I’m happy to be here.

“Ngqa”, I whisper. “Yes”, he whispers back. “Something is poking me”, I say and move my hand
backwards to remove whatever that is. He quickly stops me and holds my hand on my stomach. “Don’t.
Let’s sleep”, he says. Oh well, I’m sure I can ignore whatever it is that’s poking me.

I must have cried myself to sleep because when I wake up it’s late afternoon and Ngqa is sitting at a
table reading a book. “Hi”, I say not knowing what else to say. “Oh you awake now princess”, he says.
My heart skips a beat. He called me a princess, so does that mean he will marry me? “You were sleeping
so peacefully I didn’t wanna wake you up”, he says, disturbing my thoughts. “Right, let’s take you home
now princess”, he says standing up. “But, I don’t want to go yet”, I say and pull the blankets over my
head. I want to sleep in this fluffiness for a little while longer. “Your mother Lwezi, she must be waiting
for you”, he says.

He walks me just until the point he left me earlier and says he would love to take me all the way home
but he’s a prince and all eyes are on him. I understand. He’s gone before I can even ask if I’ll see him
again.

CHAPTER SIX

“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you”, mama says with a weak voice. “I’m sorry, I’m here
now”, I respond, taking her hand in mine. I had to take off that short skirt and borrowed T-shirt earlier
and put on one of her old dresses. It always cheers her up when I wear her hand me downs, it reminds
her of better times. “You’re beautiful, it’s a pity you don’t know it”, she says, licking her dry lips. I smile,
fighting hard to contain the tears.
“Listen to me Lwezi. You have to get married soon. Your brothers have moved out and I hate that I’m
leaving you here all alone. Find a man who’ll take care of you, a man who will love you like your father
loved me. Find a man who makes you smile and laugh, who makes you happy and nervous all at the
same time. Someone you will love and will love you back”, she says, slowly with an unsettling wheeze in
her breath. “Yes mama. But how will I know he’s the one”, I ask. “You’ll just know”, she says, squeezing
my hand tightly with her icy hand. If she wasn’t sick I would explain to her how you don’t just love a man
the first time you meet him. He marries you and you learn to love him with time. That’s what we were
taught.

“But mama, what if I don't find anyone like that?”. I’m scared of spending the rest of my life miserable
and lonely, in this home. “In that case, stay unmarried”, she says. “But mama, I'll be shunned. I'll never
be a woman!”, I say. “Better that than to be stuck in a loveless marriage my child!”, she says. “But
mama, you know they will marry me off if I don’t accept a proposal on my own”, I say. Has she forgotten
the rules? Is the illness making her forget? And why is she talking about love like it’s a beautiful thing?
“Then marry soon. Find someone who will treat you well and marry them”, she says. She’s struggling to
talk and now her speech is barely audible. The only person that comes to mind is Ngqabutho. He’s silly
yes but I would marry him. But I know that’s impossible. He’s so way out of my league I’m playing a
different sport all together.

“It won’t be long now. Call your brothers so I can say my goodbyes”, she says. “No mama. You’re not
going anywhere. You’ll get better”, I say, the tears now running. “I’m sorry for everything Lwezi. I failed
at being a mother to you. I hope you can forgive me one day”, she says. “No mama. What do you mean?
You’re perfect”. “Don’t cry. I’ll beg your brothers to take care of you. I hate to leave you like this but I
must go now. You still have some living to do my baby. Live”, she says. I wish she could stop talking like
she’s dying. It’s only a cold. I’ll make her tea and she’ll wake up feeling better.

“Call your brothers”, she insists. What option do I have than to? I stand by the doorway, crying quietly as
each of my brothers go in cheerfully and come out looking like Atlas, like they’re carrying the weight of
the world on their shoulders. Within an hour, mama is gone. Just like that. Gone. All of us were sitting
there with her and she just closed her eyes and didn’t open them again. For minutes after my brother
pronounced her dead, I held on to her hand hoping for a miracle. It’s as if a dark cloud enveloped me
and took over my mind. I feel nothing. For the first time ever, I understand how mama felt when father
died. I’m in that space, silent and refusing to feel.

I find a red scarf and tie it at the gate so all may know that death has claimed one of our own. My eldest
brother is ordering us around and giving us commands. Do this Lwezi, do that Lwezi! I’m tired. I can’t
believe how prepared they were for this. It’s like they were waiting for it. I sit behind the door in the
kitchen and listen as they go on with their planning. Mama will be buried tomorrow. I try to ask that we
keep her with us one more day so I can look at her one last time and tell her about Initiation school and
the funny feelings I get around Ngqabutho, but my brothers say we have to bury her before she
decomposes.

“The dead should not hang around the living, their place is underground and so that’s where mother will
go”, every time this brother of mine speaks I feel like pulling off my hair. “Mama just left us, don’t talk
like that”, I say in between sobs. “Come on Lwezi grow up! Mama has been dead for a long time! She
forgot about us and all she ever cared about was herself! She did nothing for us! Stop being a baby and
open your eyes”, he says. “That’s enough, leave the child alone”, my eldest brother interjects. “She’s not
a child! She’s been sleeping with the chief’s son or haven’t you heard? We need to marry her off before
she’s damaged beyond repair. It’s a pity she’s worth so much less now because she just couldn’t stay
away from things!”, my corny brother continues spitting venom. “It’s not true! I didn’t sleep with him
and I don’t want to get married”, I say, my voice starting to break. “That’s enough both of you!”, my
eldest brother says, raising his voice. I have no doubt they will marry me off soon and when that day
comes, I wonder if I’ll even be given the chance to refuse.

I try with my brothers, I really do, but like to most men around the village, I’m a girl only good enough to
exchange for cows. That thought sends me into panic but in respect of mother I won’t cry out loud
anymore. I get up and leave and no one stops me. If I can tell at least 6 people that mama is gone then
maybe there will be people at the funeral tomorrow. Homestead to homestead, I go announcing the
death of my mother. I realise I have to stay numb if I’m to make it through this. I could use some of that
advice the chief gave his son. Never show emotion.

It’s getting dark by the time I’m done and I realise I don’t want to go home. I hate my brothers and I
have no desire to see them anytime soon. I have a brilliant idea to get back at them. They will not get
rich at my expense! They don’t deserve it. Everything inside me is screaming ‘don’t do it Lwezi’ but I do
it anyway. I’ve already come this far. I’m so hurt I can’t think. So I keep walking.

I think I should knock but no, I already jumped over a fence, scratching my thigh in the process, played
very nice to a dog that was trying to eat me, hid behind a drum so one of the serving ladies don’t see me
and now that I’m here, I can’t attract attention by knocking. I gently open the door, relieved to find it
unlocked and creep in.

Oh great ancestors why do you hate me so! I come face to face with the chief. I tremble where I stand as
I go down on my knees and bow down. “My chief. You who says die and I perish”, I greet, my voice
shaking more and more with every syllable. “Stand”, he says and I’m not sure if I really should stand or
he’s testing me. “What is my son giving you that’s so good you keep returning for more?”, he says.
“Nothing. He didn’t give me anything. He gave me his T-shirt but I can return it tomorrow”, I respond,
my voice still trembling. He laughs. I have no idea why everyone enjoys laughing at me! But this is the
chief so I will not even consider asking.

To be safe I stay kneeling, with my hands together and my head bowed. Now I’m sure I’ll get banished,
I’ve had too many chances. I don’t even have an explanation why I’m here. “Ngqa!”, he says, sounding
stern. “Father. Her mother just passed on and she has no one to turn to”, Ngqabutho says. The chief
sighs. I don’t think he’ll banish me today, he has a heart I know. “Stand”, he says to me but I stay on the
floor. “That’s a command”, he says and I get up, keeping my eyes on my toes.

“I’m sorry that I’m here. It’s just that I, I …”, I say but I don’t know what to say, so I let the tears do the
talking. “It’s ok child”, he says and lays a hand on my shoulder. “Look at me”, he says. Again, I’m not sure
if it’s a trick or what. Everyone knows women can’t look the chief in the eye! I raise my eyes anyway. I
see Ngqabutho standing next to his father looking somewhere between scared and worried. He has
Ngqabutho’s eyes, so dark and intense. “I’m sorry for your loss little one. Find comfort in knowing that
she’s with the ancestors now. She will be watching over you. Now, go home, I’ll call one of the men to
escort you”, he says. With his thumb he wipes away the stream of tears running down my cheek. “Thank
you”, I say, more tears filling my eyes.

“Father, let me talk to her for a minute then I’ll find someone to escort her”, Ngqabutho says. The chief
considers it for a second then says, “Alright. One minute Ngqabutho, one!”. He then walks out leaving
awkward silence behind. “You really trying hard to get into trouble young lady!”, Ngqa says. “I’m sorry, I
had nowhere else to go”, I say. “It’s ok, he was leaving anyway. He spent the last hour telling me what to
except in my marriage and all that”, he says. “She’s gone”, I say. I refuse to keep crying though but tears
won’t have it otherwise so I let them fall silently down my face. “It’s ok, don’t feel ashamed. Cry for me,
let it all out”, he says bringing me into his arms. I think his arms are my safe space because I relax in
them and I feel and I cry. “She’s gone. Mama is gone. I want her back Ngqa, I want mama back”, I keep
saying. He just stands there, his hands digging through my hair and into my scalp. “What will I do now?
She’s gone. She died in my hands. I want her back”.

He holds me and doesn’t say anything. His heartbeat is soothing and with time the tears flow less and
less until they dry out completely. It must be way past the one minute we were given and I know I need
to go back home. But to be hugged was not the reason I came here. I’m here to make sure my brothers
don’t get rich off me! He sits on the bed and pulls me onto his lap. That’s a bit strange but somehow I
trust him and although he’s showing me things I’ve never done before, they feel good. Sitting on his lap
with his arm around me and his forehead on my shoulder feels good. “Ngqa”, I say, my voice coming out
in an unintended whisper. He lifts his head, sniffles and quickly looks away. Was he crying? Because I
was crying? I want to ask but he looked away so I think he didn’t want me to see.
I step away from him and leave him sitting on the bed. I don’t have much time, the chief gave us only
one minute and I’m sure it’s been over an hour now. I quickly take off my dress and drop it on the floor.
It feels funny standing here naked. I want to cover my breasts but I don’t. “Lwezi. What are you doing?”,
he looks at me shocked. His eyes are red so I think he was crying. “Please take my virginity out”, I say in
a whisper. “What? Why?”, he picks up my dress and hands it to me to put on. I refuse. He goes to the
door and bolts it and by the second it’s feeling more and more awkward to stand here naked. “I want to
be worth less cows when I’m married off so that my brothers don’t get rich”, I say.

“Put on that dress and let’s talk”, he says. “Will you take my virginity? Please, I’m begging you”, my
heart is on it’s knees. He sighs. “I have a lot to teach you, don’t I? Dress up and come let me educate
you”, he says. I don’t know why I didn’t just sit on the bed, I went back to sitting on his lap. I feel like I’ve
known him forever and in the scariest way, I feel like he’s all I have left on this earth.

As he explains to me what exactly I just asked him for and what he would have to do to me for that to
happen, I just want to crawl under the bed and hide. He’s being gentle with words but I get the picture. I
wonder why they didn’t give us this detail at initiation school! Or why mama never told me all this! I
have so many questions and he laughs every time before he answers them. I wish someone had told me
all this before, I’m not sure I can ever be able to do it but it doesn’t sound so bad. The crying is forgotten
as we keep laughing at the things he’s telling me.

When that discussion is done and my mind comes back home, it finds thoughts of my dead mother
waiting. “Will you come to the funeral?”, I ask. “Yes. It’s our duty to”, he says. “Thank you”, I say and
fling my arms around his neck. “You’ll get through this. It might not feel like it right now, but you will.
You are stronger than they say you are, now is the time to channel that strength”, he says. He’s so kind.

“Won’t your father come back and punish me for being here?”, I ask. I don’t want to cause any trouble.
“No, he already thinks I’m sleeping with you and he knows that will take way longer than a minute”, he
says and flashes me a smile, I bite my lower lip and look down. Now that I know what I know, he’s
making me blush. “Let’s walk you home princess”, he says. I don’t know what it is about him but when
I’m around him I don’t want to leave.

“Can I sleep here?”, I ask. I really could use that fluffiness of the bed now. I can’t sleep alone at home. I
know some people will be coming to wait for the morning and everyone will be wondering where I am,
but I don’t care. My mother is dead! No one will tell me anything. “No you can’t! I just saw you naked
and you want to jump into bed with me?”, he says. “Yes”, I say. “Yes what?”, he sounds confused. “I
want to sleep with you, I mean sleep next to you”, I say. “And if I sleep with you what will you say?”, he
says. I giggle and look at my toes. “Will you?”, I ask looking up at him. His joking face changes and he
looks at me like he’s feeling sorry for me. Is my pain that vivid in my eyes? I’ve been trying to ignore it.
“Father gave me the talk about marriage. I haven’t met my wife yet. I don’t know her but father
promises that she was raised specifically to please and serve me so she’ll excel at it. But I don’t want
that. I don’t want a robot for a wife, someone who’ll say ‘yes’ to everything. I want someone I will fall in
love with at first sight. Someone I’ll think about when they are not around, someone I’ll grow with and
try new things with. Someone whose smile will just melt my heart without her even trying. I want
someone like you”, he says.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Everything inside me is wilting and dying at an alarming rate. I’m numb and empty and hollow. I feel a
pain I can’t describe, consistently throbbing in the void that’s left within my heart. My very soul is in
agony, grovelling on its knees, screaming mercy, mercy, please. I’m crumbling from the inside and I’m
doing nothing to stop it. I’m hoping that if I die maybe the pain will die too. See, when mama died, my
heart broke in two. The one part died with her and the other is now harbouring all the pain her passing
inflicted on me.

It’s dawn and I just got home. I hate that the day had to break. I wished the night would last forever. I
was in a happy place and in protective arms and although the pain stayed with me and I didn’t sleep a
wink, those arms held me and that voice soothed me. It’s pretty dark still and my eyes can only see up to
a stone’s throw away. Darkness is something I used to be terrified of once upon a time but today I
embrace it with open arms. In the dark I feel hidden and no one can see me coming home at this unholy
hour and above all, no one can see my tears fall.

I walk around the perimeter and walk in where the fence is flat down, careful to keep close to the
kitchen wall so no one sees me. It’s barely light but it seems like everyone is up and ready to give mama
a decent sendoff. Where all these people came from, I have no idea! I step silently, careful to remain
unseen and I find the stone behind the kitchen on which we put soap on when we bath outside.

I sit, leaning back on the rough mud wall and watching the men work. The morning air is brutally
slapping my skin but I hug myself and ignore it. I already miss the fluffiness of that bed and the feel of
his body and his warmth. I just start blushing alone at the thoughts. Only his memory can draw my mind
away from reality and into a whole new world of smiles.

It’s still dark and the men must have already chosen the spot to dig mama’s grave because they are
busy. They take turns digging and I have to grit my teeth because the sound of pick against ground is
making them hurt. I hear one say loudly how nice it is that it rained not so long ago, so digging graves is
easy these days. What exactly is nice about that? I sit here questioning everything and judging everyone
in my head. Is it really necessary to bury her within the yard? Will she make it to the afterlife? What if
the witches steal her body and turn her into a tokoloshe? That’s said to happen a lot around here. Is she
at peace now? Is she learning how to smile again and how to be happy? Is she looking at me right now?

It’s getting lighter by the minute and I’m still sitting here, forgotten. The grave is still being dug and
women have begun collecting stones from outside the homestead, bringing them in and laying them at
the foot of the grave. They are careful not to place a stone on top of another as that is taboo. So many
things are taboo around here. Sometimes I want to do just that which they say I shouldn’t to see what
exactly will happen. The digging and the stone carrying continues with people talking at the top of their
voices. Why are they talking so loud? Are they happy? I don't like it. I suppose I’m expected to help but
it’s like no one is seeing me so I think I’ll stay put.

More mourners are arriving and they find their way to either the fires or to the large gathering waiting
for time to move so they can bury and go. I should be in the kitchen under a blanket receiving
condolences but I have no strength to face hypocrites acting like they care about mama. My brothers
are keeping watch of the grave so that witches don’t do anything funny like they did to my father. They
are talking loudly and laughing like this is a wedding or something merry like that! I watch them and I
feel anger boiling from my heart of hearts. I wish I could kick them one by one!

The sun is rising beautifully, emerging from beneath the horizon, already shining brilliantly. The birds are
singing, the dogs are barking at the visitors still pouring in and the chickens are going about their grain
searching business. Everything is in place and it’s a beautiful day. I find this beauty offensive. It’s like
earth is trying to tell me that life will go on without mama. It shouldn’t. Life should stop right now, the
sun must go back to where it came from, there should be a storm and it should be foggy and misty and
dark like my emotions. And if that’s too much to ask, then can the sun stand still and bow down then,
just as a sign that a queen has fallen. While we at it, can all the women happily chit chatting by the fires
just shut up and mourn. The whole world should be mourning!

“Lwezi. Come over here”, one of my brothers calls. I don’t want to go but culture says they are older, I’m
younger, therefore respect comes from me and goes to them. But you know what, for today only I’ll put
myself before anyone’s rules. I get up and walk away, ignoring all their calls. I might be in trouble later
but for now I couldn’t care less.

I walk into my mother’s hut dragging myself in like a silhouette of myself, wishing I really could be a
silhouette, just a shadow that cannot feel anything. I need to pack her clothes and lock them away
because I know no one else will do it. I feel terrible now because I was out there and wasn't home to
dress her up and prepare her for her big day. I want to cry out and let this pain I’m feeling flow out but
the tears won’t fall and my voice won’t shout. He said I must be strong and that’s exactly what I’m
being.

Mama is really gone. She wasn’t much of a mother but she was my mother. She was all I had. I’ll never
again see her tired face and her sorrowful eyes and hold her cold hands. I’ll never see her forced smile
and her frail self. A part of me wants to rejoice in the thought that she will reunited with my father, the
love of her life and maybe she will learn how to live again. But a huge part of me wants her here with
me. What am I supposed to do now? By nightfall everyone will be gone and what will I do?

“Lwezi”, I hear Sonto’s voice. I turn towards the doorway and there she is. I run into her arms but even
then I can’t cry, I just stand there, holding on to her, making a hiccup-like sound. “I’m sorry, I only heard
the news this morning, I would have come yesterday”, she says. After a while I detach myself and inhale
deeply. “How are you? What happened at Bongani’s home?”, I ask. “No sweetness, don’t worry about
me. Let’s say goodbye to your mother today. We’ll talk about all this some other time”, she says. She
looks tired and a year older than she is! I wonder what life has done to her in the past few days. “Come,
it’s time”, she says and takes my hand.

I stand with Sonto, next to the open grave behind the grain silo. I really hoped they would change their
minds and bury her outside the home, next to father. I loved mama but the thought that I’ll be left all
alone in this home and her dead body will be right here is making me very uneasy. Ghosts are real and I
don’t want to be getting late nights visits from her.

My body is here standing next to the grave but everything else is gone. I’m empty, so empty even my
tears are dry. I shed none. I’m trying to remember my mother. I’m trying to forget the broken perfect
porcelain she was in the last half a decade. I want to remember the woman who laughed and played and
cooked and sang every morning. But that woman died so long ago my memory is failing to conjure her
image. All I’ll ever remember is a painfully thin, lifeless woman I called mama.

I keep looking across the grave, at Ngqabutho, standing next to his father. He’s not here for me, he’s just
fulfilling his royal duties. He looks so sinfully good as the rays of the morning sun bounce off his hair. He
dresses like no other boy in this village. He’s in black jeans and a black jacket that’s unzipped, showing a
black T-shirt underneath. He looks like he doesn’t belong in this village. He doesn’t quite fit. His face is
stoic but I catch his eye each time. I feel like he’s saying something to me but I don’t know what. I just
wish he could hold me the way he held me yesterday. He felt so warm and his arms wrapped around me
like I was his to hold. I should be ashamed of such thoughts at mama’s farewell!
I’m scared, no I’m terrified. I’m all alone. I wish I could run across and ask him to make me cry into his
chest. But I stand still, I will not embarrass my mother on her last day. My eyes are back to the prince in
black. Ngqa! He must be tired, he’s been running on my mind since morning.

The chief stands and steps forward in perfect stride as if gliding over the land. He looks so composed
and alright, I’m jealous. I want to trade lives with him and be composed and uncrying and he can take
my place. Two of his men stand on either side of him as he speaks, each carrying a spear in their right
hand. His voice is bold and powerful and looking at him is like looking at an older version of Ngqabutho.
As the chief speaks, I’m listening but I’m not hearing. He keeps talking and my mind keeps wandering off
searching for happier memories of my mother. He’s done after a while and he says now whoever has
something to say can come forward and say a few words to or about the dearly departed.

Dead silence. Zero movement. I look at my brothers and they all look down. No one goes forward. I
don’t know if I’m hurt or embarrassed or both. I can’t believe that my mother meant so little to
everyone around here. If only I’d been born male I would step forward right now and pay tribute to
mama. But I’m a woman, born to shut up in public, so I carry the tribute in my heart. The chief saves the
moment by saying a few words of comfort to the family, offering his deepest condolences and throwing
in proverbs here and there.

Mama has been lying by the graveside this entire time. I did my best to avoid looking at her thinking that
if I ignore her long enough, I’ll wake up and all this would have been a nightmare. The corpse is lowered
into the grave wrapped in her colourful blanket. It’s dead quiet and I’m holding my breath. No one is
making a sound.

I let out a loud shriek when the first shovelful of soil lands on her. “Sshhhh!”, one woman next to me
says angrily. Even at my own mother’s funeral I must abide by tradition? No exceptions? I can’t make a
sound at this stage because I’ll be disturbing her peace? I hate this village and its rules more and more
each passing day. I see Ngqabutho attempt to walk towards me but his father grabs his arm and holds
him in place. I catch his eye and I hope he can see my ‘I’m alright’. Sonto has her hand glued to mine this
entire time.

I try to contain the tears by blinking them back hard. I bite my lower lip, clench my teeth and clasp my
hands. But each heap of soil landing on her seems to be burying me too and I can’t stay still. I let out a
scream and fall on my knees, I forget everyone else and pretend I’m alone, walking in the middle of the
river. I call out for mama, I beg her not to leave me, I beg her to at least tell me what I should do now
that I’m alone. I throw away Sonto’s hand and balance with both palms on the ground. I beg her not to
leave me behind.
A hateful hand grabs me by the shoulder and hoists me up. “You are embarrassing us! Will you just shut
up!”, my brother whispers harshly. I look up at him and I don’t understand. I don’t understand why they
are so cruel. What did mama ever do to them that was so bad? She was broken, why can’t they
understand that? “You’ll behave or you’ll go to your hut and stay there until you have some sense. What
will it be?”, he says. “I’ll behave”, I say.

Not screaming out loud when everything inside you is crying has to be the hardest thing to do. I bite the
insides of my mouth until I taste blood but I don’t stop. I have to behave. I have to make it through
mama’s funeral. My body goes hysterical with grief, I’m trembling where I stand but I don’t dare make a
sound. My heart, spirit and soul, all shattering into a thousand pieces, driving my mind berserk. The only
person who had cared to love me is gone, taken away overnight. Although my brain rages and is
threatening to blow me up, I remain curled up in a ball within myself, paralysed by pain and scared to be
sent away if I make a sound.

I need someone, anything, to distract, numb and ruffle me up a little. Anything to make me feel alive
again. It’s as if the world just ended and my heart has stopped beating. As if I have stopped breathing
and I’m imprisoned in a trance. My body is shutting down, to defend me from all the emotions that
have swarmed inside me. The rest of the funeral passes me by. I’m here but I’m far away from here. I
hear singing but it’s like it’s from a distance. I place the last stone on the grave and whisper ‘I don’t
know what to do on my own mama. Your sons hate me. Anyway, goodnight, sleep well and don’t let the
termites bite’.

I leave my brothers and the traditional healer behind. He has to 'strengthen' the grave so the witches
stand no chance when they come tonight. That thought alone scares me out of my senses. If they fail to
exhume the grave will they come for me?

We head back towards the side of the kitchen where large metal dishes of herb-infused water await. I
wait at the back of the line, Sonto’s arm still in mine. It’s my mother’s funeral but as if that would mean
a thing to anyone. I’m a child-newly-became-woman so I stand at the back. When it’s my turn, I wash my
hands and face with the stinky water, to remove the spirit of death and any bad luck that might have
followed me from the grave.

I’m just going through the motions like an obedient shadow. I want to cry so bad but the thought of my
brother’s wrath calms me down immediately. Now the day is just rolling by before my eyes like I’m not a
part of it. The chief, his son and their entourage are long gone. Gone with that little hope I had that me
and his son could be friends.
Last night was special and for a moment I felt alive but today is a new day and I’m all alone. He’s royalty
and I’m at the bottom of the food chain, so I have to be realistic for once. I watch passively as they
sprinkle the homestead and send remnants of my mother’s spirit away. Everything seems to be
happening in slow motion. Everyone has a memory to share when they see me and give their
condolences. When did they share these moments with mama? This is all too shocking because when
she was alive, none of these people even tried to reach out to her. So, it had to take death for people to
love her?

My eldest brother brings us a plate of meat. “I’m not hungry”, I say. “I know sisi but you have to eat the
ingovu (meat without salt), it’s customary. At least have one piece”, he says. He is the nicest of them all
but he never sticks around long enough for me to fully receive that niceness. He’s always in a hurry to
leave. “Have some Sonto”, I say passing her the plate after I’ve suffered through my piece. She shakes
her head. “Why not?”, I ask. “I’m pregnant Lwezi, I can’t eat funeral food”, she says and just like that she
breaks down. She just drops the bomb like that!

I let her head rest on my shoulder and I say nothing. I feel her pain and I know what it means and I know
her life is as good as over but I have my own pain weighing heavily on my heart that I can’t balance both.
“And Bongani?”, I ask. I don’t want to be a bad friend and completely ignore what she said. “He doesn’t
want me. He hates me for getting pregnant”, she says. “So what will you do?”, I ask. I must be sounding
heartless to her right now because my voice is not giving away any emotion. “What option does he have
than to marry me? I’ll be taken there tomorrow. He doesn’t want me Lwezi. He hates me but he’ll be my
husband. I’m scared”, she says.

I usually forget that Sonto is a child like me. I often think she’s grown because well, she always sounds
grown. But this girl crying on my shoulder right now is a child, a terrified one at that and love her as I do,
I don’t see how I can help her out of this one. I have so many questions about being pregnant and all but
today is not the day.

One by one the mourners leave. Besides the meat that the chief (long live his highness) donated we
have nothing else to offer the mourners. There’s no After-Tears feast. So they leave. Sonto’s mother
finds us, Sonto’s head resting on my shoulder and my head resting on hers. “Nomasonto! Why are you
here? You should be ashamed to show your ugly face in public”, her mother yells at her. We both jump
up at her voice. “Go home and pack. You’ll be a wife tomorrow, start acting like it!”, she says. Everything
around me is happening so fast I can’t keep up. “And Lwezi, sorry about your mother”, she says, her
voice calmer now. "Thank you", I say. “At least for once she will get to sleep alone and the men in this
village can rest!”, she says. I’m not quite sure what she means because mama either slept with me or on
her own.
Sonto and her mother leave and I join the rest of my relatives in the hut. I feel like they are ok, like no
one is feeling what I’m feeling. Like no one cares that mama is gone. Did she really mean so little to
them? “Go and wear your dress inside out and get back here”, one of my distant aunts commands.
When I return, they have started eating inkubalo (sorghum porridge eaten from the back of the hand)
without me! I’m not even sure why we have to eat this but I won’t ask. If I open my mouth to speak, I
might not have any relatives left by the end of the day.

'Sleep well my heart, pass my greetings to father when you make it to the other side'. This black dress,
I'll be wearing for a month will surely serve as a constant reminder of what I've lost. I know I'll be fine. I
have to be. It's me against this village now. I was my mother's keeper for the longest and I can only hope
that she crosses over and watches me from the other side.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Weddings are a rare occurrence down here. The few that happen always leave the rest of the women
who never had one, angry and salty and envious. Wedding ceremonies are for the wealthy and those are
few around here. Everyone else just gets married. It’s like batter exchange really, the groom’s family
brings the cows and in exchange they are given a wife and the transaction is complete. Easy peasy.

When Sonto and I were younger, we attended a wedding with our mothers. The bride looked so
beautiful and so graceful, I still have her face imprinted in my mind. For the longest I’ve been asking the
ancestors to bless me with a rich husband so I can look as beautiful as that bride looked. But life has
other ideas in store for me and the hope of a wedding died a long time ago. The ancestors never seem
to respond to my requests anyway. It’s not like I ask for much. All I want is for mama and father to come
back, for my brothers to be less mean and for that thing Ngqabutho said about love. I ask that I too be
allowed to meet someone, fall in love with him and grow with him. He made it sound so beautiful. I
think I love Ngqabutho. I’ll ask him the next time I see him why I feel so uneasy but excited around him.
He needs to tell me why every time he holds me I feel shivers in my spine and my stomach feels funny!

I like to think that every girl looks forward to her best friend’s marriage day. To help her, adorn her,
encourage her and just share in her happiness. I call it the marriage day because with the absence of
festivities it’s not a wedding and I dare not call it the day she’s purchased as a slave, although that's how
I see it. Today is my best friend’s marriage day. It’s the worst day of my life. Sonto is marrying that man
that made her cry. I can never get her screams out of my head as Bongani did whatever he was doing to
her. I hate him and I don’t know how she still loved him after that. I’m so scared for her, he did that to
her when they were happy and he loved her, I don’t even want to imagine what he’ll do now that he
hates her.
In my moment of weakness, I told Ngqabutho Sonto’s secret. I was wrong I know but he promised not to
tell and I don’t know why but I believed him. He said what happened is called rape and that’s not how
love should be. He said if you are not willing but the man forces you anyway then it’s wrong.
Unfortunately, nothing can be done about it. Matters of the bedroom are taboo to discuss in public. So,
each carries their burden in their hearts as the saying goes, ‘if you have a problem don’t tell the world,
brew beer and tell it to your ancestors’.

At the break of dawn, I’m up. It takes me a long time to get ready, I think I’m becoming slow like mama. I
didn’t sleep last night, nightmares of mama feeling cold in her grave and asking me to bring her blankets
had me bad. I felt safe because I knew my brothers were either in the other hut or in the kitchen. All
that matters is they were close by. When they leave, which is soon, I don’t know how I’ll survive. I
thought the pain would be better today but no, it’s still as intense. But they taught us at initiation school
that a woman never shows her pain but carries it inside her while she smiles to the world. Whoever
came up with that rule doesn’t know the half of it! But I’m obedient these days so I practice my smile
before I walk out of my hut. I’m sure I look funny in this long black dress and the black doek on my head.

The sun is almost rising by the time I step outside. I panic because I haven’t made the fire and made tea
for my brothers. They scare me! It's a huge relief when I don’t see them. I hear voices coming from the
kitchen and I go there, I need to make the fire now. It’s two of the wives. They stop talking when they
see me and flash me obviously forced smiles. I force my own smile back as I say good morning. “We’ll
make breakfast for our husbands don’t worry”, one of them says and now I smile smile and breathe a
sigh of relief. The fire looks so golden and red, and the flames leap and twirl and dance around the black
pot. It looks alive! I can never get my fire to look like that. Mine is always smoke and me having to
constantly blow it. I wish I could ask them to teach me but because they smiled at me it doesn’t mean
they like me.

I find my way out of the kitchen and bump into my eldest brother. “Where to so early in the morning?”,
he asks, not unkindly but not kindly either. “I have to accompany Nomasonto”, I say looking down and
expecting him to tell me that I can’t go. “Oh alright, hurry then and be back in time to cook”, he says and
walks into the kitchen. They have wives, that’s who should cook for them not me!

I find Sonto looking sad near her two bags. I can tell she’s been crying but I’m not sure what to say. I
wish I was in a better mood so I could cheer her up but my mood is just as sour. “Been waiting for you”,
she says. “I’m here now, I’m sorry I took so long. Are you ready?”, I ask with a weak smile. “I’ll never be
ready but it’s time”, she says. A tear rolls down her eye and she looks away. I look away too. I can’t
comfort her now and risk crying. I’m holding in so much at the moment and if I make the mistake of
letting it all out, I’ll be crying all day.
I miss my friend. The bubbly, laughing, gossiping, beautiful girl I used to walk to the river with. This girl
right here, I have no idea who she is or what they have done to her. She’s broken and is beginning to
appear like the rest of the women in this village, weathered and bashed inside out. She broke rules and
laughed about it and that made me hopeful. But the price she’s paying as a consequence of her actions
is too high of a cost. And just watching her here, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe I should stick to the
rules and do as told. That scares me because she of all people gave me hope. Hope that one could
actually be happy in this village. I hate hope. I hoped mama wouldn’t die. I hoped Sonto would forever
be happy, I hoped Ngqabutho would somehow stop being a prince and be in my league and marry me, I
hoped I too could one day pick up a book and be able to read it. High hopes and all of them turned to
dust right in front of my eyes.

“Alright girls, let’s go before it gets hot”, Sonto’s aunt says. I pick up one bag and follow. The gate
suddenly seems too far as Sonto’s mother stands akimbo in the centre of the yard, running her mouth
and spitting venom left, right and centre. The women in this village are so angry, goodness gracious!

They were expecting us at Bongani’s home. Fine, my friend might be unhappy here but at least she’ll be
in a rich home. You know you can tell the difference between wealth and poverty around here. It’s clear.
Poverty is what my home looks like, wealthy is Ngqabutho’s home and rich is this home right here, with
its carefully plastered huts and a fence that actually looks like a fence and thatched roofs that don’t look
like they are rotting. This homestead is huge. I’ve counted 14 huts, seven on each side carefully
mirroring one another. The layout just screams ‘polygamy’. Poor Sonto, I can hear her sniffling under
that blanket she’s covered with.

This is the saddest beginning of a marriage I’ve ever seen. Bongani didn’t even have the decency to be
home to welcome his wife. To pretend at least, you know. I sit silently next to Sonto as she sits behind
the door. She’s still sniffling under that heavy blanket. I feel so helpless. Her aunt tells the elders that
we’ve come to officially ‘announce the pregnancy’ and to deliver their daughter-in-law. They say they
are well pleased to have a new daughter and they promise to take care of Sonto. I wonder if they
already paid damages for her, I haven’t had the chance to ask.

They are quite the wealthy family so if Bongani was even half a man, he would have properly married
my friend and given her a wedding. I wish I could stay and help her but mama died yesterday so I should
be home, mourning. Her aunt will stay and show her the ropes for a day or two, then she must put on
her big girl panties and cater to all the people living in those 14 huts.

As I walk out of that gate, my heart sinks. I know I can’t visit Sonto here. She’s married now so we can’t
be friends anymore. What business does a married woman have talking to singles? We vowed to keep
our friendship though, it might not be the same anymore but at least it will be something. I might just be
about all she has.
************

I was not prepared at all. I buried my mother yesterday and today I’m being sold off. So soon? I’ll be
married off in my mourning clothing? Is that even right? Can't they wait a month maybe?

I join my brothers and their wives under the tree. After shouting at me for having been gone all day and
accusing me of sleeping with the chief’s son, they invite me to sit. I wish people could stop saying that. I
know I claimed to have slept with him but I swear I didn’t. I sit on the ground, head bowed and trying to
swallow my tears. I listen to them deliberate and decide my fate as if I’m not here. They haven’t
dropped the name yet so I’m still wondering who this soon to be husband of mine is. My heart skips a
beat as I entertain the thought that it might be Ngqabutho. But when they tell me who it is, I’m not sure
exactly whether to laugh or cry. Obviously, they are toying with me. It can’t.

I laugh. A little at first, then I burst out laughing. Such jokes these brothers of mine have! The traditional
healer? Old enough to be my grandfather? With four wives already? That ancient man? “Tell him thanks
but no thanks, I’m good”, I say. I’m laughing so hard they must think I’ve gone mad. I think I’ve gone
mad because the disrespect I’m displaying right now! I always knew they hated me but to offer me to a
traditional healer with a bald head, a huge stomach and a grey beard? What exactly am I supposed to do
with him? He’s one foot in the grave! “It wasn’t a request”, my corny brother says giving me the ‘don’t
test me’ eye. “Oh good then, no request, no response!”, I say. I can tell they are confused. I never speak,
I either just cry or just keep quiet or run away.

“We’re doing this for you!”, my eldest brother says. He can’t even look at me. I think he doesn’t agree
with all this but I wonder why he’s not putting his foot down. He’s the eldest and since we don’t have a
father, he’s our head. Can he start acting like it, please. “We will have the lobola negotiations sometime
in the week then you can go to your new home”, one of them says. I freeze in place. They are actually
serious. “He’ll be coming to meet you tomorrow morning, so make yourself look pretty, if that’s even a
possibility. He has to see what he’s marrying”, my one brother says. I don’t mind him calling me ugly or
referring to me as a what instead of a who. None of that matters. Mama, Ngqa and Sonto say I’m pretty
so these days I believe I’m pretty!

“He can come, but I won’t be here. He can take your wife, I’m sure she won’t mind sleeping with him.
It’s public knowledge she’s sleeping with this one here”, I point at my corny brother. His jaw drops and
everyone turns and stares at him. I shouldn’t have, I know. Sonto told me that her mother told her that
her friend told her that this daughter in law of ours was switching between brothers. I never knew I
would ever use gossip as a weapon! And I’m quite sure my suddenly loud mouth will pay for its yap
yapping. But for once I don’t care. I’m not marrying that old man. He smells like dead things and rotting
herbs!

The brotherly-love wife stares daggers at me and I quiver a little. I’m sorry to her but in every war there
are casualties. I’m growing up and I’m doing so fast and I’ll be damned if I let that old man lay his filthy
hands on me. I would rather die unmarried. “Excuse me”, I stand and walk away. “Where do you think
you are going?”, someone asks. “To speak to mama and tell her you’re trying to marry me to a walking
ancestor”, I say and walk away. I hear the chaos behind me and I think two of my brothers are fighting
and the others probably trying to keep them apart. I hear a woman scream and I suppose it’s the infidel
being punished for her transgressions. I wish I could feel sorry but I have bigger problems.

*************

As I lie down to sleep, thoughts intense and heavy on my mind, I want to die. Mama, Sonto, my
brothers, marriage, it’s too much for me. I can’t. I wish I could run away but where would I go? I could go
to Ngqabutho I suppose and ask to hide under his bed forever. But I know I need to stop visiting him.
He’s selling me a dream I can never have enough money to buy. He’s showing me what life can be, what
love can be, what having a boyfriend can be. It’s all moonlight and sunshine, except that’s for him. It can
never be for me. I need to cut him off and be realistic. He’ll be married soon and although he says that’s
the last thing he wants, what option does he have?

I hear the door creak open and I sit up immediately. My first thought was – ghost alert. It’s too dark to
see but as I keep my eyes focused they get used to the darkness. I can see the outline of a man. “Lwezi”,
he says and I shudder. This can’t be good. I get up as quickly as I can and move backwards towards the
wall. There’s no place to run to so my best bet is to start apologising. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say
what I said”, I say with a trembling voice. “Yet you did! You’ve come between me and my brother! You
just couldn’t keep your little mouth shut!”, he says. He steps towards me until he’s so close I can breathe
the stench of fermentation coming from his mouth. “How did you know I was sleeping with his wife?”,
he asks. “I, I overhead some women talking”, I say. No way am I throwing Sonto under the bus. He slaps
me so hard I hit the wall then go plummeting downwards. I lie on the floor holding on to my burning
jaw. He lifts me by the shoulders of my dress and pins me against the wall.

“I’m sorry, I swear on mama’s grave, I’ll never ever say anything like that again”, I plead. Despite me
putting up a fight, he drags me by the dress and in between punches he takes it off me. I hide my nudity
with my hands, grateful to darkness. As he steps closer to me I panic.

“You will rape me? You? My mother’s child? We buried our mother yesterday and today you’ll force
yourself on me?”, I say. I wish my voice could be bolder but it’s shaky and reeking of fear. He grabs me
by the neck and constricts my air supply. I’m choking and standing on the tip of my toes. When he lets
me go and I gasp for air, I hear the sound of his zip go down. I shiver. “Go ahead, do it, let’s see how
harshly the ancestors will curse you. I’m your sister. Your own blood! Go ahead, do it!”, I dare him. I’m
hoping with everything inside me that he doesn’t and I’m ready to scream if he takes another step
forward. Although I’m not sure if help will come. I’m trembling and Ngqabutho’s words keep ringing in
my ears ‘With the wrong person sex can be a nightmare’.

I now know that if I don’t want it, it’s called rape. I asked Ngqabutho to sleep with me and he refused,
now I’ll lose my virginity to my brother! I think I’m going to be sick. He doesn’t respond and stays glued
to the floor. “I’m sorry, please don’t do this. I’ll do anything”, I plead. I hear his zip go up and I feel relief.
“I owe my brother a cow for sleeping with his prostitute of a wife. You and your big mouth, you owe me
and maybe not today but you’ll pay”, he says. A picture of that traditional healer sweeps through my
mind and I throw up a little at the back of my throat. “Will you marry him?”, he asks. Silence. “I asked
you a question! Marry him and I get my share of cows and we are even”, he raises his voice. I really want
to say something but I can’t so I remain silent. “No, I won’t marry him”, I whisper, still clutching my
naked body.

“Little floozy!”, he yells and takes two steps towards me. He has me impaled against the wall and my
efforts to push him back are futile. The slap comes first, then the punch that has me flying towards the
floor, then the kicks, hard and never ending. I can’t scream. I just curl up, bringing my knees to my
stomach and shielding my head with my arms. With each kick I feel like I’m being struck down by
lightning.

I don’t know how it ends because I hear other voices, matches is struck and I see the light and I wonder
if mama is coming for me. My eldest brother is shouting “what is wrong with you, she’s just a child!”. “A
child who knows more men than a bottle store pass-around!”, that hateful voice says.

It’s like every bone in my body is broken as my eldest brother lays me back on my grass mat, covers me
with a blanket and tells me “I’m sorry sisi, I’ll deal with him”. He leaves and returns a few moments later
with a bowl in one hand and a paraffin lamp in the other. The pain is still running through my body as if
it flows with my own blood. He sits next to my head and holds a hot cloth to my face. I flinch and cower.
“Easy, this will make sure your face doesn’t swell”, he says. He works on my face in silence for a very
long time as I sob through clenched teeth and closed eyes.

“I know it may seem like we hate you but we don’t. We just want the best for you. With mama gone you
won’t survive. So the sooner you get married the better, for you”, he says. “I don’t want to marry him,
please don’t let them force me. He’s too old”, I whisper, fighting the pain in my jaw. “What is age? He is
a man and that’s all that matters. He has many cows and he’ll take care of you. You won’t want for
anything”, he says, still dipping that cloth in the hot water then holding it to my face. “He has four wives
already!”, I say. “So? What’s your point? He can afford as many wives as he wants! You’ll be the
youngest and the most loved. He says all his wives have given him girls so all you have to do dear sister
is bear him a son and he’ll love you for eternity”, he says. I hate how calm he sounds. “No”, I say, more
to myself than to him. “Why are you being so difficult? You are an adult!”, he suddenly snaps. “I’m
fifteen!”, I snap back regaining my voice. “Exactly! A woman grown”, he says. “Without mama, how do
you think you going to live? What will you eat?”, he says. “I’ll ask from you, as usual”, I reply. He laughs a
little. “No sisi, we have our own children and wives and our own problems, we can’t have you add to
that”, he says. “No!”, I say pushing the cloth off my face.

“What do you mean no? You either marry him or we are done with you, you will not ask for anything!
You will stay here alone and take care of yourself! Is that what you want?”, he snaps. I feel a wave of
fear sweep over me. I’ll starve to death here. I need them. I swallow hard, my throat aching with the
effort. “So? What is it going to be? Make your pick”, he says, back to being calm. If I didn’t know any
better I’d think he really cared about me. I open my mouth to speak but the fear of him beating me up
too evaporates the words out of my mouth. “You can tell me sisi, we doing this for you. Mama said we
must take care of you”, he says. He sounds so kind now I feel like I can actually make my choice and he’ll
understand. “I won’t marry him, I can’t”, I whisper.

That calmness he was wearing a second ago vanishes from his face. He stands up and kicks the bowl
hard sending the water my way. I’m saved by that it has cooled down to lukewarm or else I’ll have been
boiled. I curl into a ball and start sobbing in anticipation of being kicked. “Ungrateful girl! You telling me
you can’t marry him, yet you are opening your legs for the chief’s son. You think sleeping with him
makes you royalty? It doesn’t! It makes you the village slut! He can never love you, he’s just using you!
Just like umama your legs can’t close!”, he says and punches the wall. "You are lucky we found a man
who is willing to take you as used as you are!", he adds. I remain coiled and expecting the worst and
trying to ignore that comment about mama.

“You know what, I won’t be told what to do by a child! So get up, fix your pretty little face and make
sure it doesn’t swell. Then come the morrow, you will be a good girl and smile when your husband
arrives! That’s final”, he says. “Are we clear?”, he hisses. “Yes, yes”, I keep saying yes but my brain is
screaming NOOOOOO! “Good girl”, he says, sounding satisfied. He kneels next to me and peels my arm
off my face forcing me to face him. I can barely see him through my glassy eyes.

“We don’t hate you Lwezi. We love you so just let us love you and take care of you. Don’t disappoint me
or I swear, if you think he hurt you earlier, wait until you have me to deal with”, he says all that with a
smile, I don’t understand. All this for cows? They will turn against their own blood for the love of animals
walking on hooves? “Get some sleep and make sure your face is not swollen tomorrow! You need your
face since you don’t have much else to use to convince your husband you are a woman worth many
cows”, he says and walks out.
Why are they doing this to me? Why can’t they see the inside of my unhappiness? Instead of throwing
all these stones at me can’t they just hold my hand and allow me to be a child? Can I be allowed to
mourn in peace? Can mama undie, please. I need her back right now. Life is beating me up black and
blue.

I wait until I’m calm before I fight the pains in my body as I get up and find my dress. I pick up the bowl
and head towards the kitchen, hoping there’s still hot water on the fire. I need my face tomorrow.

CHAPTER NINE

Today is the day I die. It’s no point crying really. How will tears help? If anything they could further
infuriate my brothers and my body is aching enough as is, I can’t take anymore. Like the good girl I was
always meant to be, I wake up at the crow of the first cock and sweep the yard with a barely there grass
broom, make my smoky version of a fire, boil water and roast the peanuts for breakfast. If I can only
behave maybe my brothers will forgive me.

I quickly wash up with cold water behind the kitchen before the sun comes up. I’m freezing but I don’t
matter right now, the focus is to look my best. I put on a black dress that’s a bit too big for me and tie
my doek. I look like a widow. As a child, I wasn't expected to mourn in a whole dress. All I had to do was
pin a black patch of clothing on the sleeves of my clothes. But because mama begged me not to cut my
hair on her passing, in return I chose to mourn wholly. I think I look decent enough and I hope my
brothers will be well pleased.

I sit in my hut, rocking myself back and forth, hugging my knees tight and asking mama if she can hear
me. I can’t cry. Not today. My face needs to stay beautiful. “Lwezi, we will need more water today and
the drum is running pretty low, think you can run to the river and fetch some?”, my brother’s wife says.
She just walked in without knocking! Like all of them, I hate her. I tilt my head and smile at her, “Of
course, I’ll be on my way, right away”, I say and follow her out of the hut.

The road to the river is lonely today. Memory crowds my brain as I pass familiar landmarks and
approach the dense vegetation nearing the river. I bump into two boys going wherever they are going.
They try to talk to me and offer their condolences but I hurriedly say hello and keep walking. Sonto and I
walked this path many times and I really wish she was here right now. I hope she’s alright.

The water is running quite low and the river bed appears dry in most places. I have to dig deeper before
that red source of life seeps through the sand and fills my well. The rains are not far, it will be November
in two weeks. With the rainy season comes life. The grass greens, farming begins, the river fills. But the
rains also bring death. Children drown in the river, homes like mine become uncomfortable as water
seeps in through the roof and the worst, I grow older. I will be sixteen this November. I’m growing up
way faster than I want. I want to go back in time and be ten years old again. Life was beautiful then.

I scoop away the red water until it becomes less red and then fill my bucket. It’s so quiet and serene this
morning, like even the birds are shying away from me. Like the world took a moment of silence to pray
for me on the day I meet my ancestor of a husband. I always find solace in this river, watching it
meander into the far away makes me believe there's more out there. There’s hope.

I was up all night, thinking. I know I need a way out but none of my plans will work. I considered running
away but I didn’t know where I would go. I considered killing myself then I remembered that Ngqabutho
said he would kill me if I killed myself and that just had me giggling silly. I then prayed about it, thanked
the ancestors for knowing what's best for me and accepted my fate. I'll be a traditional healer’s wife.
Never in my wildest nightmares did I see this coming.

“Hey beautiful. Need a hand?”, I hear a voice behind me as I struggle with lifting the bucket to my head.
I get such a fright, I lose grip of the bucket and it falls down, drenching me in water. As it lands on the
hard sand I hear it crack and I let out a silent no. This can’t happen to me right now. The bucket is
broken so now I have to go back home without water. That will make them so angry. I can't afford to
make them angry.

I stand and hug myself, I didn’t even bother to check whose voice that was. It sounded familiar but that's
the least of my worries right now. I tremble where I stand, my teeth cluttering, my breathing
deepening. “I can’t marry him, please no”, I keep mumbling.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me”, he says. “I can’t marry him”, I repeat. It’s like I’m not in control of my
body anymore. I’m trembling, breathing is hard and my knees are wobbly. I fall on the sand and bring
my knees to my chest. I see the shadow of this person hover over me and I cover my head with my arms.
“Please don’t hit me. I’m sorry. I’ll marry him”, I scream. “I won’t hit you. What’s wrong?”, he says
sounding worried. I keep apologising and crying into my arms.

“Let’s get you to the bank”, he says. He picks me up and I keep my eyes closed as he carries me up the
slope of the riverside. As he lays me down on the bank I plead with him through sobs, “Don’t leave me,
please. They will kill me”. “I’ll be right back. I’m not leaving”, he says. A few heartbeats later he returns.
He helps me sit up and makes me drink water from the bowl I was using to fill my bucket.
“Ngqa”, I whisper, reaching for his hand. I hope I'm not dreaming. That would be cruel. “I’m here my
love”, he says. My heart skips a beat. Did he? I think he called me his love. I'm probably hallucinating.
“Who did this to you?”, he asks, examining the bruises and swellings on my arm. I quickly pull my arm
away and hide it behind my back. He stands and paces, both his hands on his mouth. He picks up a
stone and flings it angrily at the trees, sending a couple of birds flying off. “I’m going to kill them”, he
says returning to my side. “Who did this? Did they? Did they, you know?”, he asks. I shake my head. I
have no idea why he’s so relieved. “What happened?”, he asks. “I need to get home”, I whisper. I’m
feeling much better now. “Not until you tell me what exactly happened?”, he says. “Nothing happened
ok! I fell”, I snap. “Quit playing sweetheart! Tell me who did this to you”, he says. His eyes tell me he’s
dead serious. He talks funny though, I wish I had time to teach him how to construct sentences properly.
“Nothing happened”, I say.

I need to get home as soon as yesterday. I still need to change clothes and return here for more water.
“You not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on”, he says. I look up at him to protest but he
looks so angry I don’t know what to say. Spirits he’s so handsome, it’s unnatural! I didn't even notice I
was staring.

“Why does my stomach always feel funny around you?”, I blurt out. Talk about saying all the wrong
things at the wrong time! I bite my nails when I realise I actually said that outloud. “What?”, he says
looking all kinds of confused. “Don’t change the subject Lwezi, tell me what’s going on”, he says. “You
shouldn’t be here Ngqa. It’s morning and people will be coming down to fetch water very soon. You
can’t be seen around me”, I say and silently say, ‘They all think I’m sleeping with you and that’s bad for
your reputation’. “Do you honestly think I give a rat’s ass what anyone thinks or says about me? I don’t!
Somethings I don’t do out of respect for my father but I don’t give a damn what these people think of
me”, he says. “You should”, I say. How could he say that? We live in a society and people talk and no one
wants to be the talk of the village! Besides, he couldn’t walk me all the way home the other day because
people were watching, I wonder what changed now!

“No I shouldn’t and you shouldn’t either! People will talk whether you do good or bad, learn to deafen
your ears”, he says. He’s so angry this morning, my goodness. “Now enough deflecting, tell me what
happened. Don’t make me ask again Missy. Speak!”, he says. I think he just commanded me and I want
to protest. But something tells me he won’t let this go until I tell him. Might as well just tell him and rush
home.

Thinking is one thing but speaking is something else. As I narrate the events of last night, I break down.
The lump in my throat grows until I want to throw up. “They are what? To that filthy old man? What the
hell!”, he snaps and punches the ground. That must have hurt! He can never understand, in his world
this would never happen. He sits behind me and holds me, his knees forming walls on either side of my
body. His hold is awakening pains on my back but I choose his arms over painlessness.
“Goodmorning Ngqabutho”, a woman says. The way she says it I can just tell it’s not an ordinary
greeting. It’s a ‘we saw you and now we’ll greet you so that you know we saw you’ greeting. I panic and
lift my head. My eyes fall on three women and I don’t like the look they are giving us. “Don’t mind
them”, Ngqabutho whispers, running his fingers through my hair. I giggle as they get caught up in that
tangled mess. He plants his lips on my neck and holds me close. The women look like they will faint. I
don’t know why he’s doing this or why I feel a tingle sensation in places I shouldn’t.

I think I forgot I was crying the moment I started worrying about what lies these women will spread
about me. “Let’s go home”, Ngqabutho says, jumping up and giving me a hand. “I can’t go to your
home!”. This boy is trying to get me killed. I should be home right now waiting for my husband. That
thought makes me want to throw up. “We are going to your home sweetheart”, he says. “To do what?”,
I ask. Now I’m convinced he really wants me dead. “I need to talk to your brothers”, he says. “What?
You can’t!”, I say. “I wasn't asking my love”, he says and walks away towards home. That ‘my love’
again! Oh dear ancestors, this boy will get me killed! I run after him to catch up but my leg hurts so bad I
can’t run.

He notices and waits. “Jump on”, he says crouching. Piggy back? Now I’m sure the three women walking
behind us with the pails of water on their heads have seen it all as I jump onto Ngqabutho’s back. He
makes me want to break rules and do things I would have never imagined doing. He makes me want to
live. I hold on to his neck, probably almost strangling him but it’s something I need. I need a closeness to
his body that makes me feel safe.

“Put me down”, I say as the huts that make up my home come into sight. “No, you are hurt”, he says.
“My brothers…”, I almost run out of air just imagining their reaction. “Put me down, please”, I plead.
“Shhh. I know what I’m doing”, he says. I don’t think he does and when he leaves and goes home to his
little heaven, I’ll be left alone with the demons in hell. I give up fighting and let him carry me home.

He jumps over the sleeping fence. I’d have thought he’s proper so would go around to the ‘gate’ but
again I don’t blame him really. Almost everyone stands up when they see us approach and I hide my
face behind his neck. He strolls all the way to the tree where everyone is gathered.

I quickly scan the group. All of them are here passing around a calabash so early in the morning! My
soon to be husband is here as well and when he catches my eye, he smiles, showing me a mouth with
like only four extremely browned teeth left! The wives are absent.
I swear I see embers blazing in my eldest brother’s eyes and I’m sure I’ll pay a hefty fee today. “So it’s
true that you’ve been sleeping with our sister!”, my corny brother says, walking up to us. Ngqabutho
puts me down and I hide behind him, holding on to his T-shirt. “Whether I have been or I haven’t been,
that doesn’t concern you”, Ngqabutho says. “Lwezi, sit”, he turns his head and says to me. I obey. I sit
far from everyone in case someone feels like kicking me, then I can see it coming.

I can’t believe what’s happening. I don’t get why Ngqabutho is doing this. “How dare you!”, my eldest
brother stands and backs up his little brother. “Let me guess, you are the rapist and you are the abuser
and you big brother are the failure! Let’s see, you over there are the pervert wanting to bed a fifteen
year old! Sies man, all of you, shame on you!”, Ngqa says. He sounds so relaxed it’s worrying me. For
everything he says, I’ll pay the price. That’s if they don’t kill him first. My other brothers stand and they
all back each other up and gang up on Ngqabutho, telling him to leave and that they will fine him for the
disrespect and the whole shebang. He just stands there, his legs slightly apart, his hands across his chest
and a smug look on his face.

“We are older than you and you are in our home….”, my eldest brother says. “Stop talking”, Ngqa says
without letting him even finish the sentence. I gasp. His disrespect! My eldest brother is more than
twice his age! “You dare tell me to stop talking in my own home?”, my brother says, anger vivid in his
voice. He raises his hand to strike but Ngqabutho steps back just in time and my poor brother goes
tumbling forwards. The sight of him falling is so funny I look down and giggle.

“Ok, playtime is over, all of you sit. I will speak now!”, Ngqabutho says. “Who do you think you are?”,
one of them asks. “Not who do I think I am. The question is who am I? I’m Ngqabutho, son of
Nqobizitha, he whose knees are red from kneeling on the blood of his enemies, the lion heart, chief of
Matombo, he who says die and you perish!”, he says. “Now as Ngqabutho, your prince, first of my name,
heir to the throne, I command you to sit down!”, he says. Great spirits, his voice! And the way he’s so
serious right now! Mama mia!

“No na ah! Not on chairs, sit on the ground, all of you, and I’ll speak”, he says. I love this. Watching them
cower and sit on the ground is so funny I can’t stop giggling. Even my soon to be husband sits on the
ground. Yes Ngqa! “Right, let’s get a few things straight. A huge part of me wants to bring all of you
before my father so you can answer for all the crimes you’ve committed. It’s been a while since anyone
was banished in this village!”, he says. There’s dead silence all around. I giggle some more when I see
the wives peaking from behind the hut.

“First of all our laws say every child has a claim to their parents’ home until they marry, leave and start
their own homes. Then they lose all claim. So all of you here are in Lwezi’s home! Only she can decide
what happens here and I’m sure I’m right when I say she doesn’t want any of you here”, he says. He
throws me a quick glance and I nod subtly in approval. “So when we are done here, take whatever is
yours and get lost”, he continues.

I want to marry him so bad. The way he’s so in control right now and the way he put these bullies in
their place! “And you, you wanted to lie with your own blood? Such an abomination! Thank your
ancestors you didn't or I swear, I would have killed you with my bare hands”, he says. “And you, you
told Lwezi to cross you and she will know your full wrath? Well bro, cross her and you’ll know mine and
my father’s full wrath. You should be ashamed of yourself! All of you. Your mother just died!”, he says.
He moves on and stands in front of the traditional healer. “And you, you want a child as young as your
granddaughter? No shame at all? Well guess what dirty grandpa, she’s my girl and you will not even
think about her in that way. Are we clear?”, Ngqa says and the old man nods vigorously. He’s not
laughing. I’m still confused by the ‘my girl’ part though.

“The laws also says in the absence of a father, it’s our duty as her brothers to find her a husband”, one
of my quiet brothers says. Ngqa turns to him. “Finish saying that law. It says, ‘when she has come of
age’, doesn’t it?”, Ngqa says. “She has come of age! She attended initiation school!”, big brother
protests. “You mean to tell me, none of you people actually know anything about your sister? She didn’t
graduate so she must return to initiation next season!”, he says. They all look at each other confused. In
my head I’m cheering my prince on. I want to bow down and kiss his feet right now.

He looks good, but I don’t get why he’s always wearing torn clothes! His jeans are tattered and I can see
parts of his thigh and knees. He needs to buy new clothes! I don't get how they are so torn but still
appear clean and new. It's strange. He gives them a long talk about moral decay in our village and how
they should treat women better!

“Alright then, you are dismissed. Get up, go and take all your stuff and leave! Your children are waiting
for you in your homes!”, he says. The way they all scurry away is making me laugh. They are seriously
that scared of a 20 year old?

When the last of my brothers walks out of the gate with his wife on his heel, I let out a deep sigh of
relief. “My father is going to kill me”, Ngqabutho says, burying his face in his hands. I’m not sure how to
respond. He says he has to go home so he can speak to his father before anyone else does. I keep
thanking him as I walk him to the gate. “What were you doing by the river anyway?”, I ask. “Doing my
rounds. I have to look around the village and make sure everything is as it should be”, he says. “Alone?”,
I ask. “I wasn’t alone. I told my men to go on without me when I saw you”, he says. I nod and my fingers
find his. I’ll forever be grateful to him.
“So I’ll sleep all alone here today”, I voice out the realisation. “Do you want me to come and sleep with
you?”, he asks looking me in the eye. I blush and look down. “Can you?”, I ask. “I can do whatever I want
but what do you want? Do you want me to come?”, he asks. I nod and show him which hut I’ll be
sleeping in. “Alright then, see you later princess”, he says. He gives me a hug and I watch him walk away.
Everytime he walks away, he never looks back. I wonder why.

***************

“I thought you’d never come. I was scared”, I whisper as he finds his way into my blankets. I’m worried
that the floor is too hard, I don’t have a pillow, the blankets are too itchy, the hut is too small. I bathed
just after sunset and got into the blankets and waited and waited and waited. The lamp is running a bit
low on paraffin but it lends enough light nonetheless. His arms are freezing but I let him fling them
around me anyway. I’m just grateful he’s clothed or he’ll have frozen me over. “What’s wrong?”, he
asks, bringing his cold body closer to mine. I’m sure he sensed how tense I am. “Everything”, I say.
“Explain”, he says. “My hut is nothing like yours, it’s….”, I start to explain. “Shhhh. It’s all good. I’m not
here for your hut, I’m here for your heart. To keep you safe tonight”, he says. “But..”, I begin to say.
“Sweetheart, I’ve had a very long day and I’m in deep shit with my dad, so for now I just wanna hold you
and sleep”, he says. “Thank you, for everything”, I say. He pulls me towards him and I can barely see him
as the lamp is sitting on the far end where our feet are, but I feel his face close to mine.

I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to do when his hand holds the back of my head and gentle digs
into my scalp, pulling my face closer to his. His lips lock mine and they move slowly at first, as if testing
the waters, he kisses me. I don’t know what to do so I do nothing. I just close my eyes and let his lips do
things to mine. It feels so good, I can’t describe the feeling, I just know I want more. I hold on to him and
I feel at home. I wish he never had to leave, just stay here with me forever.

“Let’s sleep angel”, he says after a little while. He calls me all sorts of nice things. “Damn, you so
gorgeous!”, he says. His choice of words always has me looking at him in awe. He’s nothing like the rest
of us down here. He’s different and it just mesmerises me all the time. I keep waiting for him to kiss me
again but he doesn’t, so I ask. “Please kiss me again. Teach me how to”, I blurt out. He laughs just a little,
that laugh that made me shy the first time I heard it. “So you liked that?”, he asks. I nod, and pull the
blanket over my head. I’m so shy right now. He pulls it back and pulls me over him and I’m lying on top
of him, my stomach on his stomach. We giggle and laugh as he keeps trying to teach me but I keep
knocking his teeth with mine. This is hard.

It gets better when he flips me over and he’s lying on top of me. I get the hang of it eventually and the
more we kiss the more I feel funny, funny in a good way, like I never want it to end. My body is aching
from last night’s beating but it’s also aching for something I can’t really put my finger on. I ignore it and
focus on this boy with the perfect lips. I keep feeling something poking my inner thigh, I’m trying to
ignore it but I can’t anymore so I reach out and grab.

“No Lwezi”, he says, pulling my hand back but I’ve already touched. “It’s so hard!”, I say out loud, more
to myself than to him. I can’t believe I touched it, now I’m embarrassed. “You made it hard”, he says,
breathing into my ear. “No I didn’t!”, I say. He laughs a little, kisses me on the forehead, rolls off me and
says, “Let’s sleep sweetheart”. “But...but I don’t want to sleep yet”, I say. “Trust me, you do. At this rate
there just might be no stopping and I can’t do that to you, not today at least”, he says. Do what? I sulk as
I turn around, fit my body in his and sleep. I keep fidgeting and I’m restless and there’s an itch that just
won’t go away.

“Ngqa”, I whisper. “Yes”, he says. “I can’t sleep”, I say. “Why?”, he asks. “I don’t know, I want you to
touch me some more”, I say. Thankfully I’m facing the other way cause those words are embarrassing.
He stays silent and keeps rubbing my stomach. “Come, let me take care of you”, he eventually says,
sitting me up and helping me out of my night dress. He takes off his own T-shirt and hugs me so close
my body is touching his and our hearts are beating together. His body feels so warm and I cling on,
never wanting to let go. “I need you to trust me. I won’t sleep with you, I promise. I’ll just take care of
you, ok?”, he says. I push him back and look into his eyes. In this lamp light, they look pitch black. “I
want you to sleep with me”, I say covering my little boobs with my hands. “Maybe someday, there’s no
rush with these things”, he says. I nod, he always knows best.

His hands replace mine and he cups and squeezes a little. I catch my breath. He’s all over me and every
time he touches he asks if I’m alright and I say yes every time. Now I’m better at kissing at least. I don’t
know if I should allow his fingers to go there but he said I must just relax and trust him so I do just that. I
don’t want him to ever stop but he stops and comes back to kissing me while his one hand wanders
around. “Just lie back, close your eyes and let me”, he whispers. His voice is too hoarse now, I wonder
why. Oh great spirits, what is he doing with his tongue down there? And why do I feel the need to keep
saying his name? Oh no, the lamp is on that side so that means he can see. I snap my thighs shut,
clapping on his head and quickly say sorry. “Relax sweetheart”, the way he said that makes me relax. I
want to feel embarrassed but somehow I trust him. I don’t know what he’s doing or how he’s doing it
but it feels so good, like all my dreams coming true at once.

I feel a wave of energy sweep through my body, like I need to go and pee right now, like I want to
sneeze but not exactly through my nose. He keeps at it and the tension is building fast I want him to
stop but I also want him to continue. I don’t know what’s happening. My back shoots upwards, my toes
curl, my hands fly, my legs tremble and my whole body is clenching. And just when I think I can't take it
anymore, suddenly all that tension is released and it pulses throughout my body. It's the best feeling I’ve
ever had. But now I want to die. I think I just peed myself and I’m most certain he saw it.
“I’m sorry”, I say hiding my face in my hands. I explain to him that I’m ashamed that I just peed and he
laughs it off and says I didn’t, I just came. That doesn’t make any sense, I was here all along! But I’m in
too good a mood to be engaging in serious discussions. “What did you just do to me?”, I ask as I lie
down, feeling so happy inside out. “I loved on you”, he says and snuggles closer to me. I giggle. Not at
him but at his something still poking me.

CHAPTER TEN

I can’t remember the last time I wanted something so badly that the very grip of my wanting seemed to
prevent me from actually getting it. I want Ngqabutho, all of him, but I can’t have him. Some girl out
there was born just to please him, love him and be his. Born just to have him. Lucky girl. I’ve had a taste
of her future and boy is it delicious. It's ambrosia – nectar of the ancestors.

The fact that he doesn't want to sleep with me stings and although he says I must trust him and it’s for
the best and we should wait, I want. There will never be a right time and I can’t bear to give myself to
another. Time is of the essence and he’ll be married soon and out of my reach. That thought leaves me
feeling pangs in the pits of my stomach. I want to spend the rest of my life staring at the moon and
counting stars with him. I know that’s not a possibility, we are two worlds apart and all we are doing is
forcing together something that can’t hold for long. In my head, we could run away from here and live
happily ever after and he could make me giggle all night every night like he’s been doing. But deep down
I know I’m just grasping at straws.

Now I wish I had just slept with him that afternoon he sneaked me into his home. I kept asking about
him poking me everytime and he said ‘you wanna see?’ and I nodded. He guided my hand to touch with
my eyes closed because I was afraid to look. I giggled the whole time and he laughed at me. All I can say
was it was hard. When I was ready to look, I covered my face and peeked through the slits of my fingers.
I couldn’t look for too long. I was so shy, I ran out and all the way home, then laughed at myself for
being such a coward. I just didn’t understand where he meant to put all of that!

I turned 16 yesterday, a beginning of another growth cycle with all its growing pains. And I know it was
just yesterday but I feel a bit fuller, my chest is filling up nicely and I think I saw a hip shaping out as I
dressed up this morning. Could be one of three things. Either it’s true and my body is developing or it’s
true that your breasts grow if you let boys play with them or I'm just imagining things. I do that last one
a lot. Ngqa says I’m pretty the way I am and I should give myself more credit.

My mind has been racing tirelessly with thoughts of Ngqabutho. It’s been so good with him that the pain
of losing my mother and my brothers feels like an ache throbbing from a hidden place in my heart. So
far back I can barely feel it. I’m in mourning but I smile and laugh and giggle and when we get to loving, I
get a rush I can’t explain in words. He's taken so much space in my head I can't think of much else. He’s
made me forget with his beautiful stories of the city and of a big world out there he wishes he could
explore with me and of a holding-hands-and-kissing-in-public love he wishes we could have. Plus he has
jokes for days and he talks funny and his dreams of what he wishes our village could be, mirror mine
perfectly.

I live alone now and it’s been loads of fun and awfully lonely too. Fun because I don’t have to make a fire
in the morning or fetch water everyday or be told what to do. Lonely because I'm all alone most of the
time and half the time I’m not sure what to do. And mama was buried right here in the yard so I bump
into her grave everyday and thoughts of her won’t leave me alone.

I thought I would starve but being the girlfriend of the chief’s son comes with its perks. Yes girlfriend.
Ngqabutho defined what we have as boyfriend and girlfriend and all the funny feelings I get around him
as love. He knows everything that boy! The chief’s workers delivered enough grains, dried vegetables
and dried meat to last me a year! I still don’t know how Ngqabutho got his father to agree to that. I
highly suspect that he didn’t ask for permission, just gave the order. He does a lot of things without
permission. He dated me without permission. He decided all on his own that I was his girl and his
sweetheart and all things nice. Not that I didn’t want him to.

Being with him feels like coming home. Like I’ve finally found something I didn't know I was searching
for. He is coming back to the village today. Four days ago he embarked on his journey to the mountains
with his men, to seek strength and guidance and approval from his ancestors as he walks into marriage.
He said it’s something all men of noble blood do. Before he left, he told me he would be getting married
on his return. I always knew that but when he spoke all I heard was ‘I don’t want you, I’m marrying
someone else, go eat a maize cob’ so I threw a fit and yelled and cried and hit him with my little fists. He
tried to talk to me but I asked him to leave and never come back to my home again and a whole lot
other things. He looked hurt by my words and I’ve been regretting them since.

I should have listened to him, I mean I knew he was getting married from day one. But for the short
while we’ve been together, he’s been all mine and I intentionally chose to forget reality and hang on to a
hope that didn’t even exist. For the whole time he’s been gone, I’ve been thinking up apologies.
Whenever I hurt Sonto I apologise so I think I have to apologise to Ngqa. It’s just I’m not so good with
words, if only he could hear my thoughts he would understand.

I’m going out of my mind. I need to speak to him, but I can’t go to his home. I tried but I couldn’t make it
any closer because it’s buzzing with people preparing for the wedding. Now my only hope is that I see
him at the wedding and hopefully get a chance to speak to him. Another part of me thinks I should just
walk into the chief’s home and ask for an audience and ask for his son’s hand in marriage. I think that’s
an abomination. Women can never court men, it speaks volumes about their morals, or lack of in such
cases.

I’ve barely seen Sonto since she became a wife. She’s still busy with her daughter-in-law duties and even
when I see her she’s never alone. I pick up a bucket and run to the river, I hope I’m not late. I need to
meet her. I was so lost in my thoughts I lost track of time. I find her about to leave the river with three
other women, Bongani’s brothers’ wives. I would like to know why the men in that family marry but
don't leave home but I can’t exactly ask.

I walk with Sonto, carrying my empty bucket and speaking in hushed voices. I don’t like this new Sonto,
she’s always drained. “Did he beat you again?”, I ask. I can see the bruises on her face. She’s pregnant
for crying out loud, that pig should keep his hands off her or I swear I’ll walk to that bottle store where
he hangs out and give him a piece of my mind! “It’s fine Lwezi, I’m fine. Never mind me, let’s talk about
you”, she says, feigning a smile. “Oh, yes, I’ve been hearing the rumours about you and the prince. Is it
true you kissed by the road? In broad daylight? In public Lwezi?”, she says with an accusatory tone. I
giggle a little and say yes. “What? What’s happening to you? Don’t do such things!”, she snaps. She’s
becoming like everyone else around here and I hate it.

Suddenly I don’t feel like telling her all my adventures with Ngqa. Clearly, she’ll reprimand me. “You
know he’s getting married, right?”, she says stopping. I nod. The bucket is perfectly balanced on her
head without her holding it. “Then leave him alone Lwezi. One day you’ll marry a man from around here
and he won’t treat you well because he’ll think you are loose”, she says. I make a disgruntled sound and
look away. “I’m serious! People are talking about you and that boy. It won't affect him, but you, your
future husband will make you pay. I don’t ever wish that for you Sweets. Stay away from that fine
looking temptation. He’s nothing but trouble”, she says. She’s making me sad. I meant to come and vent
and fill her in and ask for advice, but clearly I’m on my own.

“Go friend, I’ll see you at the wedding”, I say. “Walk me home, let’s talk”, she says. “No, I need to go
back and fetch water then go home”, I say. “Alright then, see you at your boyfriend’s wedding”, she says
and chuckles. That’s not funny at all! As I fill my bucket I want to cry. I lost mama, I lost my brothers, I
lost Ngqabutho because of my childishness and now I’m losing the Sonto I knew. I keep losing everyone.
I carry my bucket home, wishing that everything I lost could come back to me. The sun is only setting
now and I feel sadness clouding my heart.

I walk into my hut so I can change before I catch a cold. I always drench myself in water when I lift the
bucket off my head and place it on the ground. Such a wife I’ll make some day! I jump back and screech
with fright at the sight. All I saw was someone in my hut and I assumed the worst. But it’s just
Ngqabutho leaning against the wall! Thank the ancestors. “Ngqa, you gave me such a fright!”, I say when
my heart settles and I run into his arms. From the first day he hugged me, I’ve been addicted to his hugs.
I always hated being touched but his touch is different.

I’m not sure what to say. I had a whole sorry speech in my head but standing here with him, I’m blank. “I
missed you”, he says. “I missed you too”, I say. “I’m sorry that I didn't give you a chance to speak. I was
hurt and afraid so I lashed out at you and I’m sorry for that”, I say. “It’s alright my love”, he says. His
voice sounds tired, I think.

“I’ll be getting married. I’ve completed my journey and the ancestors are well pleased with the union. I’ll
marry her because I have to but she can’t have my heart”, he says. “You don’t know her yet. What if you
grow to love her?”, I ask. I hate this marriage topic and we all know love grows. “I won’t. My heart is
taken”, he says. He sounds so sad, spirits, I don’t know how to cheer him up. “You know Lwezi, I don’t
want this. I don’t want to be a husband. I’m 20 and I have my whole life ahead of me. I don’t want this”,
he says pacing my hut like he will either cry or punch a wall. “But it is what it is. I’m a prince and I will
honour my duties”, he says sounding like he’s trying to convince himself more than me.

“You don’t have to marry her you know. I’ve been thinking, we should go to the chief right now and tell
him we love each other and we want to be together but not yet marry. Mama used to say he’s a good
man so I’m sure he’ll listen. We’ll tell him you already asked for my hand and I said yes and we
consummated our love and everything. Let’s go and tell him anything Ngqa, anything to make him stop
this marriage of yours. If he doesn't listen then let's run away”, I’m downright pleading. Surely, there’s
something that we can say to the chief that will convince him to change his mind.

He is nodding softly but I can tell that he doesn’t agree with me. “I’m sorry sweetheart. My path was set
out for me 20 years ago”, he says. “But I want you to be my husband not hers!”, I say, my voice rising
and breaking. I didn’t mean to get this emotional but the one good thing I had is being taken away from
me and I can’t contain the ra-in (rage mixed with pain). All this culture does to me is take, take, take,
never giving. It’s unfair.

He holds me as I fight my emotions and struggle to accept the truth. I calm down after a while and he
still has me glued to his body. I look up to him to say I’m alright now. His eyes tell me he isn’t. I keep
looking into his eyes feeling a different sensation take over me. He lowers his lips and takes mine and I
cling on to his neck. My senses are heightened and I can’t describe the feelings going through me. My
body is on fire, my breath is deepening, my heart is racing and lightning is dancing at the tips of all my
nerves. Ngqa has me standing against the wall, it’s not friendly on my back but that’s a no-thought for
now. I’m battling emotions I don’t understand.
My clothes fall onto the floor as easily as they have been doing lately. He cups and squeezes ever so
gently, I feel like I’m a woman. As he moves the hand resting on my thigh up, up and up, oh holy damn
yes! I don’t know how he does that with his fingers but it makes me want to scream and be dead silent
at the same time. The pain I was feeling minutes ago is soothed.

I can feel myself starting to soak his fingers and I throw my head back as I listen to the sensations
running throughout my body. He’s so easy to be with. He gives me a sense of freedom I’ve never known
before. “You are so wet”, he whispers in my ear and I tense up. Is that wrong? Shouldn’t I be that wet?
“What’s wrong?”, he asks. His voice always gets this deep when we play like this. “Am I too wet?”, I ask
in a whisper. “You can never be too wet”, he says.

He lays me back on the blankets and nudges my knees apart. He stays there, looking, my secrets all
exposed to him. I feel the need to snap my knees shut but as I feel his tongue, it’s like I want to die and
live, all at once. I lose all impulse to fight. He comes back up and kisses me, a little saltiness on his lips. I
hold my breath and stiffen as he slips a finger in. “Easy, sweetheart”, he whispers. “I won’t hurt you”.
There’s promise in his voice. He locks my lips again and I’m overwhelmed. Today feels more intense than
ever before. His finger stays there, moving, as my knees shake. “More, some more”, I cry out weakly,
unsure of what exactly I’m asking for. I want him deeper, so deep I’ll feel him there forever. I don’t know
how that feels like but that’s what my body is yearning for right now.

He does something sinful with his finger and strokes something that has me almost getting up and
running away. And when he presses his thumb down I yelp. I wanna scream but I’m so breathless I’m
not even sure I’m still breathing. “Damn sweetheart”, he says and whispers something so naughty in my
ear I blush furiously. Then I’m flying and my body is trembling, and there’s an explosion pulsating
throughout my body and I come, as Ngqa phrases it. He just holds me tight, breathing with me, our
bodies as one.

“You feel so good in my arms my love. You are everything I want and I can’t believe how deeply I’ve
fallen for you. You are all I think about and this right here is special for me. You are special to me. I love
you Lwezi”, he says my name so beautifully. I feel him throbbing at the meeting of my thighs and I’m
scared but I’m excited. “I love you too Ngqa”, I whisper. His words just fell onto my heart and have me
all up in my feelings. I love him. I retreat into my head and I can hear he’s mumbling something but I’m
still cradling that ‘I love you’ he said and smiling to myself.

Oh great spirits, help me! What was that? I want to jerk up but I know I have to remain still. All that
pleasure I felt just disappeared. A sharp pain rips through me like I stepped on a thorn. I stay still, eyes
wide open and body stiff. It hurt so bad my tears can’t even come out, they just dance at the surface of
my eyes. I can’t even speak or breathe or do anything, I just remain speared onto the floor. I think I’ll
pass out any second now. Ngqa has frozen too, our bodies still locked together. He looks into my eyes
and I see passion and truth.

“It’s ok. I won’t move until you are ready. Ok sweetheart?”, I nod subtly. My eyes hold his, needing to
get lost in those beautiful windows to his soul. “Just breathe for me sweetheart”, he says, his voice
alone making me quiver. I don’t know how long I keep him there before I ask him to move. Who am I
kidding! This thing is the worst. So much pain! It’s like he pulled a knife and pushed it back in. His lips on
mine, his hand roaming my body, his movements slow, I feel painfully pleasured. It’s so bad it’s like I’ll
break in two but it's so good I want him closer. I don’t want it to stop as yet. It goes on a while and he
just loves me completely.

I feel connected to him, it’s like here right here is where I belong. I refuse to think about the fast
approaching future that will tear us apart. A future where I’ll be all alone again. I’ll just hold on to the
cuddling and him professing how grateful he is that I was the one for him and saying the sweetest yet
sad sounding words I’ve ever heard. “Ngqa”, I whisper. “Yes”, he says snuggling closer. “Does this make
me a princess?”, I ask. “Ummm, no my pretty one, if only life was that simple”, he says.

Oh well, I thought so too. I try not to get lost in my thoughts. I need to stay here and savour this
moment. “I know this is the end for us. I shall marry day after tomorrow. But just know that I will never
forget this. I’ll never forget how you claimed me before you even knew you. Little did I know that you
would consume every part of me”, he says. His words are truth, a truth I don’t want to hear. “People
that have been loved deeply can endure the most. Be strong for me sweet angel. Don't let our not being
together stop you from living. You will be my princess in my heart”, he says. “Will you stay the night at
least?”, I ask. “I will”, he says and runs a hand through the tangles of my hair and as always it gets
caught but today I don't giggle about it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

In her dying moments, mama spoke of a love that which I must pursue. A love that I would give and
would be given back with the same intensity. Never in my wildest thoughts did I imagine it would feel so
fulfilling. Even as the cock crows this morning it feels like a new dawn. It might be the end of the road
but Ngqabutho has given me a new beginning. He’s made me look at the world differently and made me
realise that love is not something you grow into by force as they taught us at initiation school but
something you fall into head first. In the short while I’ve known him, I have experienced new things,
learnt a lot and learned about love in it’s untainted form. I have lived. My future looks shaky right now
but boy was last night oh so worth it.
I’m a light sleeper so as the cocks crow for the first time, I wake up. Eager for a new day I sit up. I feel a
sharp pain as I sit and I giggle to myself. Ngqabutho did a number on me! I giggle some more. He’s lying
next to me, even my giggling doesn’t disturb his sleep. My mind can’t fathom how all this beauty and
perfection was given to one person. Is it maybe because he is a prince so he had to look very lookable
since he’s the face of our village? Is that what the ancestors intended? Because if it is, they sure got it
right.

I don’t understand many things about this boy. How can he be so ok with leaving that fluffy bed of his
with the white linen to come and sleep on this hard floor, linenless and covered with blankets older than
himself. Last night hey. Things happened and I’m giggling all by myself remembering. It hurt but oh how
beautiful it was. I always thought the nasty S was that, nasty. And hurtful and horrible and all that’s bad.
But that which Ngqa gave me was nothing of the sort. It was the exact opposite of my fears. But it hurt,
make no mistake.

I remember the first time I saw Ngqabutho close up, in that hut. He had looked so handsome and tall, his
dark skin flawless and contrasting perfectly with his white teeth. He had charmed me silly without saying
anything and I had fallen flat on my face, for him.

He showed me a love I didn’t think was possible and now that he’s marrying another I’m left wanting
more and wondering if my heart will ever beat for another.

I wake him up gently and it takes a moment but he wakes up eventually. He has to leave before it gets
light. He can’t be seen leaving. He’s still a prince and he’s still getting married tomorrow and a noble
prince is what I want him to be. Not this unruly city boy with torn clothes that everyone gossips about.
As he realises where he is and looks at me, I see guilt in his eyes before he casts them down. He looks
ashamed as he rubs his palms together. I have to stop him before he says sorry and ruins the memory of
last night for me. “No Ngqa, don’t say it. Don’t ever feel ashamed for that we shared. You need to go
now though, the sun will rise very soon”, I say. His lips move to speak but I honestly can’t have him
thinking we did anything wrong so I keep talking. “Ngqabutho, I’ve heard of stories of the makorokozas
(gold panners) who come to the village and exchange their gold for cows with the rich. Mama used to
say the rich value that gold more than life itself. To me, last night was a thousand times more valuable
than gold”, I say.

He looks at me and I wish he looked less sadder, it’s too early in the morning! I cheer him up in no time
telling him how I believe I fainted a bit last night. He says for a second he was worried that I was having
an asthma attack or worse I had died at first impact. He’s so silly! It’s getting lighter outside and
although he insists on staying and he keeps saying he doesn’t care what people say, I urge him to go. He
will be a chief one day and people around here don’t forget. “Walk me sweetheart”, he says. “I don’t
think I can walk”, I say and blush as he laughs at me and ruffles my hair. “Was it that bad?”, he says.
“You have no idea!”, I reply gigglishly.

As he leaves, I go back to sleep with a smile on my face. I’m content. How many women is this village
have shared their first night with a boy they loved? I feel lucky that I’m the exception. Ever since mama
joined Team Ancestors, good fortune has been on my side. I guess she’s putting in a good word for me
below there. I’m still trying to fall asleep when I hear a loud voice repeatedly announcing its presence
outside and I have no option but to go and address it.

I recognise the men as the chief’s messengers. They say the chief wants to speak to me. I tell them I’ll be
there shortly and they leave. I can’t stop laughing at myself as I struggle with walking and with bathing
and getting dressed. Everything is a mission today because of the pain. It keeps reminding me of the
memory of last night and I find myself blushing all on my own. I know I can’t keep the chief waiting so I
make my way there. I’m terrified out of my mind and endless possibilities swarm my brain. It’s usually
not that far but today it’s like kilometres and kilometres away. I’m walking slower than normal. I can’t
close my legs because of the remnants of the pain from yesterday so now I’m doing a duck walk and
wishing I don’t meet anyone. At initiation school they told us that if you sleep with a boy, everyone can
see.

I enter the hut I’ve been ushered in to and I do all the greeting and the chief respectings as I sit on the
floor. There’s an awkward silence. I can feel his eyes digging into me but I keep my head bowed. I can
not look the chief in the eye. He greets and I greet back, hands clasped, head still bowed. Some more
awkward silence.

Ngqabutho budges in breathless. “Father let her go. If...!”, Ngqa says. “Silence! First of all you will greet
and you will sit when addressing me!”, he says. “I apologise father. It’s just that…” Ngqa tries to say.
“Floor. Sit!”, the chief says and I lift my eyes enough to see Ngqa sitting down. “Your despicable
behaviour has gone on for far too long. You crossed a line and this is not something you can handle
anymore. This now requires the intervention of the chief, something you are not, and at this rate
something you’ll never be!”, he says, his voice stern. “Father, I can explain. I…”, Ngqa says. “Silence! You
may be a man to her but to me you are an infant! You will not talk back without my go ahead. You are
irresponsible Ngqabutho and you continuously use the wrong head to think! You’ve been neglecting
your duties! You were supposed to do your rounds around the village this morning and the mornings
before you journeyed to the mountains. But no, my son, the prince, was nowhere to be found! He was
waking up in some girl’s blankets and carrying himself like an immoral, spoilt brat. Didn’t I teach you
how to carry yourself? Values? Honour? Morals? How many times Ngqabutho should I tell you that all
eyes are on you?”, I think the chief is boiling with anger but his voice has remained uniformly calm
throughout.
“But father…”, Ngqa says. “But nothing young man. I’m not your father right now, I’m your chief and we
are done here, I’ll deal with you later. For now, get out”, he says. “But…”, Ngqa tries to says. “This
instance Ngqabutho, except if you want me to call the guards to drag you out!”, he says. “Yes, my chief”,
Ngqa says. Our eyes meet briefly before he bows, takes the knee, recites their clan names and walks
out. Now I’m terrified for real. That was his beloved son that he just humbled. I can’t imagine what he
will do to me.

“Now where were we before we were rudely interrupted?”, the chief asks. I remain silent and shivering
in my shoes. “Can you believe the disrespect of this boy? He just marched in here to save you! Doesn’t
he know you don’t need him for that? Surely you can fight your own wars. Am I right?”, he says. I nod
because I think I’m expected to. “What do you see in him?”, he asks. “He is…”, I begin to answer but the
chief laughs at me. “That wasn’t a question young one”, he says. I’m even more confused because I’m
most certain it was.

“Right. I know you think you love my son and maybe you do. But listen to me child. Ngqabutho is a
prince, an heir to the throne. With that comes many responsibilities he can’t escape. He is not only
responsible for our home, but for our people, the kraal and everything in this village. Do you understand
that? The very future of this village lies on his shoulders. He has duties and who he marries is
unfortunately not his choice. The heart can choose what it wants but a man does not think with his
heart now, does he?”, he says. I want to hate him for saying all this to me but even though his voice is
hard, he sounds so kind. I have so much to say to that but I’m a woman and he’s not just a man, he’s a
chief so I will guard my wayward mouth today.

“I know that he hasn’t been sleeping at home for a while now and I know he’s spending those nights
with you. I saw him walk into my home in the wee hours of the morning and what you kids did was
written all over his face”, he says ever so eerily calm. I want to say I didn’t sleep with his son but I’m so
worried that he can tell if I’m lying. He seems to know everything and I’m even scared to talk back to
him in my head in case he can read minds. I can’t risk him hearing thoughts like ‘It was wrong maybe,
but it was nice and I would do it again and again if it were up to me’. So instead I say, “My chief, may I
speak?”, I say. “Feel free. Forget all these uptight rules and let’s talk”, he says. He really confuses me this
old man. He was very stern on rules with Ngqa but he says I must forget them.

I clear my throat even though it’s not clogged. I’ve seen people do that before they say intelligent
speeches so maybe it’s a thing. “I wouldn’t mind marrying uNgqa. I love him. I will make a good wife I
promise”. Oh great! That’s not what I meant to say. Oh dear. “I’m sure you would my dear child, but
Ngqabutho already has a wife. She was born and raised in a befitting family to be his wife”, he says. That
just stabs at my heart but I understand. I always knew we could never be but a girl is allowed to hope,
right? “I could be his second wife”, I say. Again, that was a thought that came out unrefined.
“You are just like your mother. Beautiful, persevering and above all, honest”, he says. My eyes shoot up
and look at him. “You knew mama?”, I ask. “I know everyone in this village”, he says. “Listen to me. I was
young once and I understand what you two kids are going through. But we don’t live in a dream world,
we live here and here we abide by the laws preset for us by our forefathers. For the sake of your young
heart, let Ngqabutho go. He will be married tomorrow and then he will be going away to university. He
can’t leave two wives behind. Who will take care of them?”, he says. It’s hard to tell if he’s serious or
joking or if he’s angry or happy. His voice stays uniform when he talks. I feel like I’m talking to a dead
person. Stoic and emotionless.

“We’ll just run away then”, my mouth mumbles. I’ve decided that I will not be responsible for anything
my mouth pronounces. It runs on its own without my permission. I suggested that to Ngqa yesterday
but he rejected it. “Even if you run away with him, you won’t go far, his ancestors will guide him back
home. Child, being a prince is not just a fancy title, it’s not a choice. It’s a link between this village and
the ancestors, and that type of linkage, you can’t break. Chieftaincy has been in my lineage for centuries
and Ngqabutho is next in line. So if you love him as much as you say you do, you will not stand in the
way of his destiny”, he says. His voice has been uniform throughout, it’s scary. Doesn’t he have
emotions?

“You are young and I hope you will soon forget whatever it is Ngqabutho has been doing to you when
he’s not sleeping at home”, he says. “But…but I don’t want to forget”, I say. I didn’t mean to say that out
loud. It’s yet another rogue thought that turned into words. “Well in that case, should you and
Ngqabutho decide to continue doing whatever this is then be discreet. I mean it. Make sure no one ever
sees you. And the day you marry someone else, leave my son alone, I will not have his name dragged for
bedding another man’s wife. Do you understand?”, he says. “Yes, my chief”, I say. Loud and clear I
understand.

Should I, should I not? Should I? Maybe not. But he’s the chief and I’m no one, but he said I can talk
freely. My tongue will be my undoing, I swear. “Chief you said I could speak”, I say. “Yes, that’s what I
said. Speak your mind”, he says. I don’t get why everyone in this village is so scared of this man. He is so
kind. “Who’s to say the ancestors didn’t lead Ngqa to me?”, I ask. He laughs a little, sounding a lot like
Ngqabutho but deeper. “But child, how could they have led him to you when you came here and
claimed him to be your lover?”, he asks. My cheeks burn up. “I mean to say, what if we were meant to
be together? With all due respect my chief, our traditions are abusive, oppressive and deprive women of
their rights. We deserve equality. Did you know that everyone is equal, including me and you?”, I say,
and quickly cover my mouth with both hands. These are things Ngqabutho said and I’m here using them
at the wrong place and to the wrong person. I look up and my eyes fall on his. I wish I could read him but
his piercing eyes give me nothing so I quickly look away.

“I see Ngqabutho has gotten into you. Is this what you two will be talking about all night?”, he says and I
keep my eyes glued to the floor. Gotten into me? Why does he keep on embarrassing me like this? What
is he trying to do? I mean I can barely sit properly over here so I’m more than aware of last night’s
shenanigans without him having to keep pointing it out. “What would you rather have our traditions
be?”, he asks. “Aa Ummm I didn’t think that far”, I say. I just narrated what Ngqabutho said. He laughs at
me.

“Listen child, I’m sorry about your mother. So what are your plans for the future?”, he asks. “I’m scared.
I think my brothers will come back and make me marry an old man”, I say. The thought is taking away all
the comfort I was beginning to feel. “They will not be bothering you, isn’t you and my son decided to
play chief and tell them never to return to your home?”, he raises an eyebrow and I feel the need to
apologise immediately. “I can explain”, I say. “No need. Both of you didn’t follow protocol but it was
taken care of, so they will not be bothering you. You’ll marry when you want”, he says. It’s like a huge
load has been lifted off my shoulders.

“You are free to leave now, I have less than 24 hours to make Ngqabutho a man. He’s very unruly, that
boy”, he says. I giggle a little because his unruliness is the second most attractive thing about him, after
his body of course. I thank him profusely for his time and kindness and he stops me as I begin to recite
his clan names. “Please don’t. Do you know how many times a day I have to hear those recited to me?
Spare me child”, he says. I look up at him and smile, then turn towards the door, leaving him sitting
there looking majestic on the leopard skin covered throne.

I pause by the door. There’s something that has always bothered me and if I don’t ask today when I’ve
given a free pass to say whatever I want, I’m afraid I might never get another shot. “My chief, why don’t
girls go to school?”, I ask. “Because they need to keep the home together and take care of their parents
and siblings. That takes a lot of time”, he says. “But I don’t have parents or siblings to take care of, so
can I go to school?”, I ask, my excitement levels rising and I’m sure it shows on my face. “School? I don’t
know about that. But you can learn. At least learn to read and write then we will see from there. I will
make the necessary arrangements”, he says. I stand there mouth gaped. I didn’t expect that.

I give him my gratitude and find my way home. I guess it is true that every new beginning comes from
some other beginning’s end.

CHAPTER TWELVE

SO LWEZI WOULDN’T COME OUT TODAY. I TRIED BUT SHE JUST WOULDN’T. ALL I DID WAS TYPE AND
DELETE ALL DAY. SO THIS CHAPTER IS WRITTEN IN NGQABUTHO’S VOICE.

CHAPTER TWELVE
This is getting old! The rituals just don’t end. Girls glaring, older boys cheering and a good old classic
smile on my face. “Be kind only in action, but your face should never tell a story,” words of my father. So
I return every smile and glare with a blank face and a fixed smile and a nod, hiding my cheer. It’s quite
hard because honestly I love being with the people. But father taught me well and what he says I must
do, I do, most times at least. I began my training for the throne when I turned sixteen and father has
been grooming me for my marriage to the first princess of the next village eversince. Joining tribes and
maintaining power, “take the world one village at a time,” the old man would say.

Oh yes, I didn’t introduce myself, I’m rude. I’ve been okay with it for so long, since the only decent
conversation I can have is in my head. Nobody in this village will dare give me an honest answer or look
me in the eyes. All I get is yebo nkosana (yes prince), hayi nkosana (no prince), Inkosi ithi…..(The chief
says…) I could go on. Being a prince comes with its perks yes but a decent conversation is not one of
those. Enough with the whining now, I am Ngqabutho, son of Nqobizitha, heir to the throne. Everyone
around me calls me ‘nkosana’, everyone except Lwezi, my sweet little thing. She calls me Ngqa and her
click on the Q just has me wanting her to keep saying my name.

It’s my wedding day. I always knew it was coming but I’m not ready still. Father bit my head off
yesterday for sleeping with my girl. I tried to explain but he wouldn’t have it. Maybe I shouldn’t have, I
know that, but I was all emotionally charged and I just wanted to cosy up with her and let her know I
loved her. I didn’t pre-meditate to go all the way with her. I have no explanation really but when people
tell you ‘it just happened’ when asked how they ended up sleeping together, believe them. I was going
to take it slow, maybe go as far as the last time but then she moaned and I’m sure I heard her beg for
more. Somewhere between those moans and angelic screams was my undoing. A sudden urge to
possess her, claim her, came over me. I had no will to fight it and my only desire was to show her how
she made me feel and that was all I endeavoured to do. It was gonna hurt anyways so instead of easing
in to her I dove in with one thrust and chilled until my baby girl was good. Heaven is what it felt like
being in her. She doesn’t know it I’m sure but she is a feisty one, she pleased me as much as I pleased
her. It was explosive. Umm I better stop walking down memory lane before the general stands at
attention. How will I explain my boner to my wedding guests?

The journey to the mountains was emotionally draining. Making a pact with our ancestors is not
something taken lightly and since I’ve walked that road, there’s no turning back now, I will marry the
mystery princess. She better be petite and potable like my girl Lwezi then maybe I can show her some
tricks tonight.

I’m headed down to the kraal to prove to everyone that I am their rightful heir and that my marriage to
the princess is pleasing to the ancestors. There’s ululation from the crowds and as I approach the kraal
the maidens stand in my way, waiting to form a circle around me and lead me into the kraal. I try not to
laugh when I see Lwezi amongst the maidens. But her secret is safe with me as mine is with her. I’m not
ready to let her go and I get a headache just thinking of what to do to be with her. Maybe I should let
her go after all, be the man my father says I can be if I could just control my penis. That’s rich coming
from a man with four wives and who knows how many concubines.

The city can boast all it can but damn, the girls in my village are hot. My eyes are serenaded by their
luscious curves and chocolate brown skin glistening from the application of vaseline or is it glycerine?
Their smiles and giggles as I walk past them fascinate me. How can they still lust after me, even though
they fully know they can never have me?

I’m dressed to the nines in all leopard skin. Again, royalty comes with its perks. The average men wears
calf-skin ibhetshu (traditional dress for men) but I’m not average, am I? I have the tufts of tails on my
arms and below my knees making it look like I’m ready to pick up a spear and kill someone. The
headband on my head was a gift from my father. It’s been in our family for decades now. I feel like a
warrior and the way everyone is dressed traditionally today, it’s as if we are in some Shaka Zulu movie
set. The men are waiting on the other side of the kraal and the maidens are in my way, dancing and
singing praises. I know it’s just boobs but maybe it’s time our girls covered up in these ceremonies, it
might reduce the number of perverts in this village.

I love my traditions and my people but the rituals can be exhausting. But again I’m a prince and the
people look up to me to set an example. I scan the crowd and wave my knobkerrie in the air to their
greetings and praises. I realise that I’m not happy. So much about this village makes me unhappy. I can't
begin to compare this place to the city. I understand the basic needs that people here can't even enjoy,
explore or worse of think about. But maybe because they don’t know they need them it makes it not so
bad?

I hate the way women are treated by the men. Any whispers of equality are quickly shut down and
anybody found wanting is sternly disciplined. All the girls do is chores and farming, then become wives
and that’s the end. That’s a sad way to live. When I become chief, a lot of things will surely change.

I catch Lwezi’s eye and she quickly looks down. My sweet thing, acting the perfect maiden. Seeing her
topless is giving me feelings I probably shouldn’t have right now considering I’m wearing ibhetshu. Haha,
I can't help but laugh at myself, the city sure did teach me a thing or two about being a bad boy. But
lucky for me, the city is short of maidens and boy do city girls love royalty. I smirk reminiscing on the few
hearts I left breaking after I announced my marriage. For such witty girls, they can be so naive.

I jump over the logs that make up the enclosure of isibaya (kraal) and I feel a strain in my leg. I seriously
need to return to the city and go back to the gym. My eldest uncle is waiting with the spear and all the
men related to me are on that side, watching and whistling and carrying on like young boys. As my uncle
starts talking, I feel a rush. That rush when your clan names are being recited and you almost feel the
ancestors reaching out to you, clapping their hands, recognising you.

“Awu, Ngqabutho ka Nqobizitha

Nxumalo.

Zwide ka Langa. Ndwandwe, Mkhatshwa okhabangezinde nezimaqhukubezana

Nkabanhle. Nkomo ayihlatshwa, uyothi ungayihlaba yophe amasi njengo mbhelebhele

Hlubi, Sandl' esimnene, Somaphunga.

Ngqabutho yethu”.

The whistling and the praises from the people is giving me that zing. You know, that boost. I’ve done this
before for ceremonies. Never once have I failed to lay it down with one stab, excuse the pun. I raise my
hand and everyone falls silent. I know all eyes are on me as I take the spear and circle the cow, speaking
to it, explaining to it, appeasing it, so it sacrifices itself. I ask for guidance from our forefathers and for
strength and for a clear path. I stop at the side of the bull and wait. It bellows, loud and clear, and
there’s my signal. My spear goes behind the neck and the bull bellows one last time before it falls on its
side. The ancestors are well pleased.

The happiness going around my homestead today is contagious and I’m beginning to enjoy myself. Just
until Lwezi crosses my mind. I want to take care of her. She’s different from any other girl I’ve ever
known. I love her and it hurts that I can’t be with her. But a man never cries so I’ll take this like a man
and leave her be, that’s what father said I should do. The day drags on and its festivities all round but I’m
feeling a bit annoyed. It does get annoying to sit with your statue of a wife accepting gifts you don’t
need all day and saying thank you. She’s a statue, prim and proper and rigid. Beautiful yes but a statue
nonetheless.

************

We are sitting around the fire with most men from the royal family, each more than happy to share their
stories of their wedding nights. I am getting bored, though much anticipating this evening with my now
beautiful wife. I nod as though I am paying attention to the advice being given although I doubt I’ll be
using any of it. What’s taking so long? I should have a discussion with her about this, I do not like being
kept waiting and this shall be her first and last time to do so. One of the maid servants comes in to notify
me that the princess is ready. If it wasn’t for the fact that these are the men that raised me, I could have
sworn they were teenagers with all the noise they are making from just hearing the announcement. “Go
now, it’s not like you don’t know what to do. Just make sure you represent! See you in the morning at
the ‘showing of the sheets’”, father says. I look at him and there’s a sly smile on his face. Only him and I
know what he is referring to. I find my way to my wife’s hut.

I walk into the hut, half expecting to find her naked and waiting and another half wondering if she is one
of those needy girls that expect you to talk to them and charm them before they let you in. I hope she is
the first, because after the hecticness of today I have no desire to charm anyone. She remains seated on
the bed after I have entered. For some reason I sense some hostility . She doesn’t speak. “Sakubona, we
didn’t get a chance to talk and properly introduce ourselves. I’m Ngqabutho Nxumalo”. I’m hoping this
breaks the ice. I’m rewarded with an empty glare. What’s this I face? A defiant wife? I’m far from
amused. “Yebo Ngqabutho, I’m sure there were many moments we could have greeted each other, but
you took whatever chance there was to ogle the girls in your village”, she says as she stands up to face
me. She crosses her arms across her chest and looks me straight in the eye.

“My name is Ndoniyamanzi. I was raised to be the wife of the heir to the throne and the future queen of
your people. I would like to be treated as such. I won’t have my husband stare at other women in my
face. Did you really think I wasn’t looking? I expect you to respect me and I will not accept anything
less”, she says. She is standing upright, her chest rising with her folded arms. I bet her heart is beating
unnaturally. Quite the introduction. The nerve! What is this? She thinks she can discipline me on my
wedding night? For once I can relate with my village men for disliking educated women. This one needs
to be taught a lesson.

I walk slowly towards her, like a lion about to pounce on its prey. I draw out my knife and aim for her
dress. I know the tradition and she knows it too I’m certain. You cut the dress off your bride on your
wedding night with a knife. And she better not move because I’m in no mood at all. “You won’t lay a
finger on me, I’m not one of your village floozies. You men think you are special, coming here with your
tainted hands, who knows with whatever disease!”, she says hugging herself. I smile and still step
forward. Holding your anger in is quite easy if it’s someone you don’t care about.

With one cut I slice through the material of her dress and hear some of the beads drop to the floor. She
holds her breath. I move my face closer to hers as though about to kiss her. She wants it, doesn’t she?
After the awesome speech! I go in for the kiss, slowly at first, then I deepen the kiss. She is panting and
groaning and her hands cling on to me. Objective met now it’s time to step back.

“Now listen here little princess, I am the future chief. I will not have my wife address me in such a
manner. I trust they taught you well, act as such from today onwards. And don’t worry yourself, I have
no interest in touching you. It’s not like you have anything I have never seen before. Fear not, I shall
keep my diseases to myself. Strip and sleep, those clothes need to be all over the room for the maid
servants to see first thing in the morning. I will see to the elders. Feel free to be wife and may the spirits
help you be queen someday. With that loose mouth and skunk stinking attitude, I doubt. Bear in mind, I
am nkosana here and heir to the chieftaincy. My eyes will wander as much as they want for as far as my
land stretches. What I look at or admire shall not be of your concern. Just do your duties and I will not
touch you, not today, not ever! I shall require nothing of you”, I say. Tears escape her beautiful eyes. Yes
little princess even royalty has its hierarchy. I head for the door. Where is Lwezi, I need to talk.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Today has been a little bit hard on me. My boyfriend got married and I had to be the good girl I'm
expected to be and partake in the celebrations. I went through a roller coaster of emotions but for the
most part I wore the mask so well no one saw through me. I know the women were talking about me
saying I wasted myself on a boy. I don't mind them really. I didn't waste myself. If anything, in
Ngqabutho, I found myself and I found my voice.

I was so shy when he looked at me and smirked when I was dancing with the virgins. Then he jumped
into that kraal! That boy has no head! He should have waited for us to open the gate for him so he can
walk through like the royalty he is! But no, Prince Ngqabutho did what his head told him and jumped
over! I was so proud of him when he killed the cow. The way he handled that spear had me feeling hot
and cold at the same time. And his body, great spirits, his body! All the other girls were drooling but I
have touched and in a naughty way that made me feel special.

Then I met the Princess when I went to present my gift. Nkosazana (Princess) Ndoniyamanzi! She gave
me a hateful eye when I greeted her. She didn't even shake my hand so I stayed there with my hand
stretched out in front of her not knowing what to do! That was awkward. I wonder what lies people
have already told her about me. Or was it because Ngqa held on to my hand a little while longer than he
should have when I shook his hand?

Princess Ndoniyamanzi! She looked basic. Nothing to write home about really. Maybe that's the green
eyed monster in me talking. But seriously, she has a common face. Her beauty looked forced. I don't
know what she put on her face but it covered up all her skin leaving her looking like a mud doll. Her
eyebrows looked too broad and so black I could swear she drew over them with a piece of coal. Her lips
were painted a blood red, to match her luxurious dress I suppose. And her head dress was big and broad
and adorned with different coloured beads. Maybe that's why she was acting so big headed. The only
thing about her that stood out was her eyes. They were bold and capturing. I don't know if the black
lining her eyes was natural or she painted it but it made her eyes pop.
I overheard the maid servants saying she’s not the nicest person to be around and they don't look
forward to serving her. One actually said she called her a ‘slave’! She can't do that! We don't use such
words around here, they bring up memories of a past that's never supposed to be spoken of.

I left earlier because I bumped into the chief and all he said to me was, “You know you don’t have to do
this, child! Go home, the other women will do the cleaning and the washing". I turned and smiled
graciously at him. “No, my chief, I have to do this. I want to do this”, I said, my face somewhere between
tears and smiles. “Are you sure?”, he asked, clearly not convinced. I was trying to keep my mask intact
and maintain a smile, but I crumbled. “Yes, I’m good here, really!” I insisted.

That's when the tears fell. “Don’t cry little one. I know it’s hard but don’t let these people see your
tears”, he said placing his hand on my shoulder. “I love him. He’s all I think about. I want to live for him,
to play with him, to talk to him, to sleep at night with him. I want him. I breathe him”, I blurted out. I
know I need to guard my mouth. I thought he would be mad at me. I mean I told him to his feet (wasn't
looking at his face) that I wanted to sleep with his son again. But at that moment I didn't mind. I mean I
knew it was never gonna be but he said he’s my boyfriend and he loves me. I told him I loved him too
and it was the truth. Why can’t that love be enough to override overbearing traditions? “Go home child.
I know it's hard and it would be cruel to ask you to stay. Just go home”, he said.

“No! I’m staying right here!”, I yelled. Raising my voice at the chief and shrugging his big hand off my
shoulder. “Lwezi. As your chief I command you to go home. I know it's hard but save yourself and go.
Your emotions are heightened and the last thing you want to do is do or say something that will cost you
and my son’s reputation. He's a man and so we will laugh it off, applaud him even for being a ladies’
man. But you, you’re a girl and I don't have to tell you what that kind of confession will do to you. So go
home and pack. Tomorrow you leave for the city. I will send a messenger to your home to bring you all
the finer details”, he said. Me? The city? Without knowing what I was doing I knelt at his feet and threw
my arms around his legs and recited all the Nxumalo clan names. Zwide kaLanga.

Then I got up, wiped my tears and straightened my dress. He said I shouldn't let them see my tears so
that's exactly what I was going to do. I needed to wear the mask so well that no one could read my face.
I needed to hide my feelings. I didn't see any other way to soothe my soul and encourage my little heart
to continue beating. Then I left and headed home.

I decided I'm done with the black dressing. I know there's a whole ritual and all I need to follow but I'm
all alone and I don't think anyone would be interested in performing the ‘ukuhlutshulwa’ (letting go of
the black clothing at the end of the mourning period) ritual for me. I went to mama’s grave and
explained why I had to stop wearing the dress. I also told her goodbye because I was heading to the city
and maybe would never come back. There's nothing left for me in this village. I then threw the dress
and the doek down the toilet and bathed in water infused with some herbs I picked up and that was it.
I then cooked but by the time I was done I’d lost my appetite. The messenger of the chief came and as
he spelled out my future for me I was nervously excited. Will I survive the city? Ngqa says it's a whole
different world there and it's a dog eat dog place. He tried to explain to me what he meant by that but I
still didn't get it. But I guess I'll find out for myself now. So I closed myself in my hut for the rest of the
day and sat hugging Ngqabutho’s T-shirt, the one he gave me the first time we met. I wanted to cry but I
kept remembering that I needed to be strong.

When nightfall came, I pushed the bucket full of maize to the door to keep it secure, then retired to my
mat. I keep the lamp on all night because I'm scared. I get really bad dreams sometimes then if I wake
up and it's dark I get scared. With Ngqa sleeping here it was better. He would hold me after the
nightmares and reassure me that it was just dreams nothing real. I miss him.

I hear a knock on the door. From a distance at first. It persists until I'm wide awake and clutching my
blanket. There's nowhere to hide. What if it's that mad man everyone says goes to people's homes at
night? What if it's witches? The knocking stops and I hear someone push in the door. Now I'm terrified
and today of all days I decided to sleep undressed because of the heat. I quietly wake up and look for a
dress so that at least I'm clothed when the intruder comes in.

My heart is beating so hard I'm afraid whoever is outside can hear it. The door opens, pushing the
bucket back like it's empty. “Is this all the security you have?”, he asks kicking the bucket so hard it falls
on its side. My chest drops in relief. He really needs to stop frightening me like this! “You need more
security Lwezi! And this staying alone business is bullshit. I can't have you staying here alone!”, he says.
“You gave me such a fright! You could have just called out my name you know!”, I snap at him. “And risk
witches stealing my voice? I don’t think so”, he says. He kicks the bucket again.

“What's wrong my love?”, I ask and walk towards him. He's so not alright and he's still clad in his
traditional wedding wear. “Close the door and come and sit. Tell me what's wrong”. I sit back on my
mat and cover my undressedness with a blanket. The truth is I want to shout at him for coming here
and scaring me and breaking into my hut! That's criminal! I'm also wondering why he isn't in Princess’s
hut right now consummating their marriage.

He kicks off his shoes and joins me under the blanket. “Ngqa what's going on?”, I ask softly. “Please
sweetheart, for a minute just hold me”, he says. “What's wrong?”, I ask again. Now I'm really
concerned. “Just hold me, please”, he says. I push the blanket away, move and kneel in front of him and
let him rest his face on my chest as I hold him. I wish he could cry. I feel better after crying. But I'm not
about to ask a grown man to cry. It is known that the inyembezi zendoda zehlela esifubeni (men must
hide their sorrows).
He didn't tell me how long he wants to be held for so I keep holding. “Thank you. I needed that”, is all
he says when he lifts up his face. “Stay here. I'll be right back”, I say. I don't give him a second to
respond as I throw on a dress then pick up the lamp and leave him in darkness. I make it to the kitchen
and return struggling to carry the things. “Eat something. You'll feel better afterwards”, I say. I kneel
before him, “The water is a bit cold, I’m sorry for that”, I tell him as I wash his hands in the bowl. “It’s
not that cold”, he says with a beautiful smile on his face. I then give him the plate of food. I don't cook
very well but I try and sometimes, like today, I get lucky and it comes out actually nice.

He probably ate at his wedding anyway but he's not rude I guess because he eats. It’s nothing fancy at
all, just sorghum pap and mopane worms. “Did you eat?”, he asks gobbling down the food. I shake my
head no. My heart was too sore to eat. “Then wash your hands and let's eat. Although I don't really
wanna share because this is too good”, he says. I wash my hands and eat with him and in no time we
are giggling and he's asking me to teach their chefs how to make mopane worms like this. I tell him I
can't because it's a family secret mama passed down to me. He says then maybe he needs to make a
daughter with me so I can teach her and he can bribe her for the information.

I'm sure mama is rolling in her grave right now in disapproval. I'm eating on the same blankets I sleep in!
He looks happier and more him after the food. I knew food would make him feel better. I wash his
hands and quickly take the dirty plate and dish back to the kitchen. It's a full moon and it's so bright, I'm
just carrying the lamp but I don't need it really.

I find Ngqa back in the blanket. Maybe now he's ready to talk. But before we talk, can he love me a little
louder for the last time. I need him, with every fibre of my being, I need him right now. I throw off my
dress and cosy up next to him slowly finding myself on top of him. Well, I make it obvious what I want
but he tells me “No Lwezi!”. “Please Ngqa, I want”, I whisper, too embarrassed to ask out loud. “I can't
do that to you”, he says. I plead with him but he remains resolute. I'm confused because he's poking so I
know he also wants. “No baby”, he says. When he said that ‘baby’, Zing! Went the strings of my heart.

“Please understand my love. I can't keep sleeping with you. I mean I want to but it's wrong and it's
unfair to you. I won't do that to you anymore my precious”, he says. “Is this it? The end?”, I ask, afraid of
the answer. “You know what, let's go sit outside and talk. I can't stay a second longer here with this
body of yours this close to me”, he gets up and I join him a while later.

The moon is shining white and generously giving earth light. I listen to the boy I love tell me how his wife
gave him attitude and disrespected him. “So you didn't sleep with her?”, I ask just for clarity. “I didn't”,
he says and my heart sings a little melody. “But saying you won't ever touch her is a little harsh don't
you think?”, I ask. “It's not just her! It's her entire clan. They think their village is better than ours
because they are richer. Her father blatantly disrespected my father this afternoon but the old man is
meek so he ignored the rudeness. I sat there Lwezi, listening to a stranger disrespect my own father in
his own home!”, he says. “But I let it go because father said the best treatment you can give a fool is
silence”, he says. “They think they did me a huge favour by giving me their daughter! They think we are
beneath them!” he says. I don't know how to respond to all this so I stay silent, listening to him. “But
you know what. Even after all that I thought I will not punish the daughter for the sins of her father. I
was willing to make it work with her and hoped that maybe our union could unite our villages. Then she
turned around and gave me her bullshit talk. She's a mega bitch and I'm not about to force things that
clearly won't work”, he says. “But you have to make it work Ngqa. The sheets must be shown in the
morning!”, I remind him. He is a prince and has to carry his york with grace. “I'll make a plan with the
sheets but I'm not touching her”, he says. He goes on venting and complaining and unpacking his royal
pains.

“Father told me about your going to the city. Take this and keep it safe”, he says handing me an
envelope. “I wrote you this letter. I want you to keep it and read it one day when you can read. Don't
cheat and ask someone to read it for you. I need you to read it yourself”, he says. I take it, hold it to my
heart and promise to keep it till I can read. The moon is as bright as day tonight allowing me to watch
the black ink sprawled upon white paper wishing those characters made sense. At least I can make out
my name at the top.

“What does it say?”, I ask, resting my head on his shoulder and still looking at these black characters as if
they will miraculously make sense if I look at them long enough. “You’ll find out one day my pretty one”,
he says, putting his hand around me. I wish I could freeze this moment.

“I don’t know how to put this but don’t take it the wrong way, ok?”, he says. I look up at him because
usually when people say things like this they are about to go all out and insult you. “Ok, your dresses
are, let’s see how to put it. Ok, they are ok for here but in the city they might just be more on the uncool
side”, he says. I think he just called my dresses ugly! “So as soon as I get to the city, I’ll come and take
you and we’ll go shopping. I bet you’ll look stunning in a floral dress”, he says. He insulted me, didn’t he?
But that shopping part got me blushing. The most shopping I’ve done in my life is buying sugar and tea
leaves from the store down at the growth point.

“Will I be ok Ngqa?”, I ask. I’m terrified of the fast approaching future and I desperately need
reassurance. “You will be alright sweet thing. Besides you are a clever girl and you’ll be reading and
writing in no time. You have nothing to worry about”, he says. We sit there is silence, breathing in the
night breeze. The moon is still shining gloriously and the air is still, we hear a dog continuously howling
from a distance. A bad omen that.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The last memory of my friend I have is her on her knees, shattered into a hundred pieces, crying
streams of tears. Her cries pierced right through to my soul and watching her squirm and in that much
agony left me feeling helpless, not knowing what to do or say to soothe her. The last memory of my
friend I have is one that if I never remember, it will be too soon.

I used to think my life was sad and I wanted Sonto’s, when we were younger of course, but today I'm
glad for mine because I would never survive a day in hers. Our bond was weakened when she got
married but there still were a few strings left holding us together. In my heart she will always be my
sister. My only sister.

I knew something bad was going to happen when that accursed dog wouldn't stop howling. But I didn't
think it would affect me. It was howling for the whole village to hear after all. Last night Bongani died in
a beerhall brawl and my friend suffered her heartbreak on a full moon. If Bongani wasn't my best
friend’s husband I would be saying ‘how fitting!’. At least he died doing what he loved, gulping down
beer and fighting for the kind of woman who has no shame in sharing a calabash with men!

I rushed to his home this morning as soon as I heard the news. I ran all the way and found Sonto, her
mother in law and one of Bongani’s brother’s wives in a crying contest. I couldn’t decide who was
screaming the loudest. I dragged Sonto to her hut and tried my best to console her.

“I thought you didn't love him. Shouldn't you be rejoicing right now?”, I asked. She immediately
stopped crying like someone had pressed pause and looked up at me, staring daggers into my face. “You
want me to be happy that my husband is dead? That the father of my child is gone so I'll go through this
pregnancy alone? That I'm a widow now? I should rejoice? Is that what you’re saying?”, she asked.
“Yes! At least no one will beat you up and force themselves on you now. You will finally know some
peace!”, I said. “Wow Lwezi! Can’t you at least fake being supportive? Wasn't it enough that I had to
sleep with my husband’s father on my marriage night? Then I had to put up with Bongani and now that
he's gone, I'll have to be a wife to his brother! I'm pregnant Lwezi!”, she yelled at me. When I said, “He
might treat you better!”, that's when I realised maybe it was time to stop talking.

I've never seen Sonto so angry! I stayed quiet as she shouted and screamed at me. I knew it wasn't me
she was mad at. It was Bongani, for putting her in this situation in the first place then dying on her and
leaving her to deal with a culture that has no heart to spare anyone's feelings. At least they will allow
her to mourn and maybe they could allow her to have her child first before her brother in law inherits
her as his second wife.
After the screaming at me died down she turned to crying her eyes out. I've been taught proper hugs so
I hugged her and let her cry in my arms, my own tears dropping on her head. Months ago, life was
beautiful and we were children. Now we are adults and that came with so much anguish. At least I'm
getting a ticket out of this place but I wish Sonto could come with me. I don't recognise this girl in my
arms. That beautiful girl whose looks I envied everyday is fading fast. I wonder if she's still in there
somewhere. She's dimming so fast it shows on the outside. She's aging, with bags under her eyes, loose
skin under her neck and bones on her collar. Her skin has lost that glow I used to want to steal, and she
lost so much weight I think it's unhealthy for a pregnant woman. She has scars on her arms and she
showed me some on her back. Gifts from her now late husband. So as she cried in my arms I couldn't
help but wonder who exactly she was mourning. Her husband or herself?

I wish I could have stayed with her all day and tomorrow and the next day. Just to see her through this
and hold her hand. But Matombo is hers to face alone now, I have the city to figure out.

“Goodbye my friend”, was all I said to her. I wished I could tell her about my adventures with the good
Prince, tell her my talks with the chief. I'd thought I'd tell her at the royal wedding but she didn't show
up. Our friendship suffered this short distance between our homesteads now I'm certain it won't survive
the City-Matombo distance. No way it can. I've heard men say ‘I will write often’ when they leave home,
but I couldn't leave Sonto with that promise.

“You really going to the city Lwezi?”, she asked. “Yes”, I said. What should have been a let's-dance-with-
joy moment was a great-spirits-why-have-you-forsaken-me moment. “One day I'll get you out of here.
Just hang in there Nomasonto, I'll come for you and we will be happy again”, I blurted out. She smiled at
me with her puffy face with a smile I know so well. It's a ‘Oh Lwezi you are so naive it's not even funny’
smile. Even I knew I was just grasping at straws but sometimes hope is all we need to carry on.

I left her home and greeted the men outside guarding Bongani’s corpse. He died from a knife wound and
so his body won’t be entering the homestead. The more this culture speaks up, the more I’m glad to be
walking away from it.

On my way home, I met two women, ex friends of my mother’s. I tried to change direction but they had
already seen me. I gave a hurried ‘hello’ with a clumsy genuflect and tried to walk on, but they were not
having it. “Is this how you greet now Lwezi? Huh? Now that you’ve grown breasts you think we are
peers? Where's the respect?”, one of them scolded me. “I'm sorry”, I said, not sorry at all. “So tell us, is
it true that you and the chief's son have been seeing each other?”, the other got straight to the point.
She used to be mama’s frenemy. They would smile at each other and laugh but turn around and say the
most horrible things about each other. “No it's not true. He's just a friend”, I said, digging the ground
with my toes. “Wo woright. That's good then because he's married now. You don't want to be hurt the
way your mother was now, do you? I remember that day, ey I thought she was going crazy. She actually
fainted! She was lucky I was there to stop her from embarrassing herself any further”, she says. I want
to ask what she means but she's not a very nice person. “Did she ever tell you that I set her up with your
father? He was kind enough to accept second hand goods, shame poor soul”, she says.

“With all due respect dear elders, you should be ashamed to call yourselves wives and mothers. All you
do is trash my mama's memory! That’s all you did at her funeral! I've had it. And please, don't lie about
my father! Mama told me you wanted him but he married her and that left you bitter. Again, with all
due respect, my father loved mama. Loved. Something you'll probably never know about. So may you
kindly go home and wait for your husband to come and beat you up so you can say ‘thank you, I love
you too’”, my mouth just kept running like a donkey with a fly in its ear. I wasn't prepared for the clap
she gave me! I staggered backwards and held on to my cheek, but still I wasn’t sorry.

“The chief will hear about this! You think because he and your mother…”. Her friend didn't let her
finish. “Leave her alone. She's been bewitched. This kind of disrespect is unnatural”, she said. I looked at
them and I’d never been so glad to be leaving Matombo and its people behind!

**********

I secretly hoped Ngqa would come and say goodbye. The car will be here any moment now. Packing
didn't take me long. I’d never realised how few my clothes were until I had to bundle them up into a
classic leather bag that belonged to my father. The first thing I packed was the letter, safe and secure at
the bottom and the last thing was the black T-shirt my tattered jeans-wearing boyfriend gave me.

I left mama's belongings still locked up in her hut. There will be no one to do the ceremony, so forever
like this they shall stay. There's enough food for a year in the kitchen but I'm leaving everything behind.
It took me a long time to break off a branch of the Buffalo Thorn tree. After scratching my arms more
times than necessary, I dragged it all the way home and barred the gate. Now everyone will know that
my father's home is no more. It's ruins.

Just in time, the car arrived and I hopped on. I've never been further than the outline of my village. I
never had a need to. As I sit at the back of the pick up van, the wind harshly blasting my face and
dancing through my hair, I have a smile on my face and tears in my eyes. I'm happy to have been saved
but when all is said and done, this was all the life I knew from birth. This is where I belonged for years
and this is where the bones of my parents lie. This is where my umbilical cord was buried. So run as far
as I may, this will always be home. So long Matombo!
It's almost sunset and I had to remove a little blanket I packed to cover myself. There's two other men
sitting on either side of me, just villagers who needed a lift to the city. They keep talking of the tax
increase, the dying economy, cash flow problems and how little they get paid. I zone out because I don't
relate at all. Before long, one of them is snoring and for the life of me I can not understand how anyone
can fall asleep in this cold! I remain hugging my bag under my blanket and saying goodbyes in my heart
to anyone who meant anything to me. The list is quite short really, Sonto, the chief, Ngqabutho.

I too must have dozed off because I’m woken up gently. The two men are gone and it’s just me and my
bag left. “Welcome home”, a man strikingly resembling the chief says to me. I rub my eyes and get off
the car. “Welcome Lwezi, my brother has told me all about you. You are part of the family now, feel at
home”, he says with a gracious smile. I wish I wasn’t so sleepy, maybe my smile would appear more
thankful. I do a quick look around and it’s big houses lining either side of a smooth black road. There are
lights high above following the road and the houses just don’t make sense. I’ll look at them again in the
morning but I can already tell that this place is nothing like the reality I know.

“Call me Nkosi”, the chief look-alike says. “I should call you by name?”, I ask. I don’t think my tongue is
capable of rolling that way even if I wanted. “Oh the village! Fine call me uncle if that will make you feel
better”, he says with a kind smile. Ok, I can work with uncle. He bids farewell to the driver and invites
me to follow him. A tall black gate stands in our way and I get a slight fright when it starts moving on its
own. I’d rather not ask but just follow uncle. The surface of the yard is paved with bricks and on my right
lies a garden that I don’t see clearly in the dim lighting.

We walk down a loooong driveway till we come to the door of the house. The huts, I’m not sure what to
call them, are all joined together. I walk in anyway. What are all these things? I feel my heart rate rising
and I clutch my fists to maintain control. I didn’t realise I had frozen by the doorway. “It’s alright, come
on in. You must be tired so I’ll show you your room and we will talk in the morning”, he says and I nod
vigorously. It’s too much and I could use a mat and a blanket right now.

We walk into a more open room with long chairs that look like beds, except they have back rests. “Cass,
come and say hi to your cousin before she goes to bed”, he says. Well I guess they decided I’m ‘cousin’.
That’s better than being called ‘her’ I guess. “But dad I’m playing FIFA and I’m about to score again”, he
says. “Cass!”, uncle calls again, his voice sterner. “Fine!”, the boy gets up and comes to greet. He looks a
lot like his father, who looks like the chief, who looks like Ngqabutho.

“Lwezi, this is my son Castiel”. I extend my hand and say hi and genuflect. “Cass, this is Lwezi”, he says.
“Lwezi? Wait a minute, Lwezi as in Ngqa’s Lwezi?”, Cass says and my eyes pop wide open. “What do you
mean?”, uncle asks squinting at him. “I mean Ngqa mentioned that there’s a girl called Lwezi coming to
stay with us”, Cass says and I breathe out. “Oh ok then. I…”, something rings in his pocket and he tells
Cass to show me to my room as he has to ‘take this call’.
I’m still feeling lost as I follow him down a corridor. He stops at a door and looks at me with a naughty
smile on his face, “This is Ngqa’s room”. “Ngqa stays here?” I ask. The shock! I’m not sure exactly how
I’m feeling right now. “Yup!”, he says. “Come, you are next door”, he says and shows me into a room.
“Please, kindly make yourself at home, your bathroom is ensuite. I wish I could show you around but I
really have to get back to my game”, he says. I nod and thank him. He talks funny, like his cousin, mixing
English and our language like it’s normal. “Oh, and if dad asks, tell him I showed you everything and you
told me to leave coz you need your space. Pretty please”, he says and is gone before I can say anything.

I close the door and breath deeply. I’m overwhelmed and my heart is pounding in my chest. This room
has a bed as big as the one in Ngqabutho’s hut back in the village. The bed is lined with a pink blanket
and six pillows! Exactly what am I supposed to do with six pillows? There is a large window on the side
lined with beautiful curtains. I would love to draw those curtains back and look out but I’m terrified. A
large white wardrobe with many doors lines the wall and stands from floor to roof blending perfectly
like it has no edge. The white roof is flat and has a lamp stuck on it. It's all too perfect like I'm in a dream.

There’s a door leading to another room and I go through it. I suppose this is the ensuite Cass spoke of. I
have no idea what all these things are. It’s beautiful, too beautiful but I have no idea what anything is
and that's making my chest constrict. I kick off my shoes and get into bed. The tears are here and I can’t
stop them. I’ll never fit in here. I want to go back home. This is too much for me.

The door flies open and it’s loud Cass again. He pulls back the covers and it’s too late to pretend like I’m
not crying. “What’s wrong?”, he asks. I take a pillow and cover my head not knowing how exactly I could
explain it to him. Besides, I don’t know him like that. “Don’t cry", he says. "Ngqa called earlier and he
said I must make sure you are taken care of. I promise I’ll teach you everything and show you how
everything works. But in exchange you have to promise to stop crying”, he says and pulls the pillow off
my head. “Promise?”, he says giving me his hand. I nod and shake his hand, my face still buried in my
other arm.

“Wanna speak to Ngqa?”, he asks and I look at him like he has gone mad. I can’t spiritually speak to
people. He pulls out a device from his pocket and keeps tapping on it with his finger. “When you done
talking to your boyfriend, tell him he owes me airtime! I’ll give you space…….No hold it like this…...no it’s
ringing…..no like this…..good….start talking when you hear his voice…..Ok you good now…….Let me
stand guard by the door outside incase the old man decides to come and check on you”, he says and
walks away. My prince’s voice comes through and my face breaks into a huge smile.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Wakey wakey sleepy head”, I hear a voice and someone shaking me awake. I jump up and out of the
nightmare I was having, almost falling off the bed. I open my eyes and make a quick realisation of where
I am. “Good morning Castiel”, I say in an I-just-woke-up voice. “Let's stick to just Cass, shall we? Castiel
makes me feel too much like an angel!”, he says. How is he so alive and energetic so early in the
morning?

“Come, let me show you how everything works before you burn the house down while we are away”, he
says. I rub my eyes and find my way out of bed. He's already in my ‘ensuite’ waiting. He shows me how
to use everything and yes now I know it's called a bathroom and that's a shower and I can choose
between that and the tub. I’m starting to get the feeling that I need to learn English because Cass like
Ngqa speaks half English-half language.

“I assume you won't do much today. The helper is off till Monday so you’ll be home alone. I'll be back
around 4”, he says. “Helper?”, I ask. “The maid, house girl, usisi whatever you call her but we don’t call
them that anymore. Just call her aunty”, he says. I nod. “If you get hungry, the pantry is this side…... and
the fridge is over here……... and the stove is here……..and this is what you do…..See?.....Easy peasy”, he
keeps pointing and showing and I keep nodding and following. I don't understand but I nod anyway.
That feeling of being overwhelmed is coming back fast.

I follow him to the room I first met him yesterday. "This is the TV and this is how you switch it on and
you change channels like this and you increase the volume here and and and.....”, he says, losing me
every time. “You alright?”, he asks when he sees my hands shaking as I attempt to stretch them out to
receive the TV thing. I shake my head no and bite my lower lip to stop from crying. I feel like I've been
living under a rock all these years and I don't see how I will fit in here. Maybe it's time they sent me back
home.

“Sit. What's wrong?”, he asks. “Everything. I don’t belong here. I don't know anything”, I say. “It's all
good. That’s no reason to cry now. Even me, there are so many things I don’t know but I keep learning.
Like when dad bought me the car, I didn't know how to drive but looking at the car sitting there in the
garage everyday gave me the motivation to take my driving lessons seriously and I got my license and
look at me now”, he says. I look at him unblinking. I don’t quite relate to his example. “What I mean is,
it's ok not to know things. It's good actually because it gives you the opportunity to learn”, he says.

“Tell you what, let’s get you all the snacks you need and you can stay in bed all day. How about that? I'll
teach you everything, don’t stress”, he says. I nod in agreement and tail him to the pantry. Two packets
of chips, biscuits, juice and a box of sweets later, I'm back in my bed feeling much better. “Where's
uncle?”, I ask just so I don't appear mute. “He left for work already. He's quite the early bird”, he says.
“And you, are you not late for school?”, I ask. “We’re writing exams now so I don't have to be at school
at 7 am. I'll be writing from 12 till 3 then I'll rush back here. Think you can try and stay alive till then?”,
he asks. “Yes”, I nod, I'm sure I can try.

His phone beeps and he looks at it and goes silent for 5 minutes or so, typing furiously. Phone, yes, I’m
learning. He sighs before putting it back in his pocket. “Think you can be my date for the farewell party
tonight? My girlfriend says she can’t go with me anymore because she’s grounded”, he says. Ok that
whole sentence went through this ear and out through the other. I stare at him, blank. “It’s the last day
of exams today so we will have a ‘goodbye’ celebration at school this evening. So I’m asking that you go
with me as my plus one”, he says. I nod. I’m such a yes girl today. “What do I need to do?”, I ask just so
he doesn’t think I don’t speak. “Nothing. You’ll just need a pretty dress and nice shoes and that’s it”, he
says. “Ok”, I say. The least I can do is go with him, he’s been very kind. “Cool gee, thanks. Such a life
saver you are!....Look, I really wanna stay and chat but I have to go and do last minute revisions. Your
boyfriend kinda set the bar too high with his results!”, he says. I smile at him and wish him the best of
luck. “Cool. Later”, he’s gone before I can respond. He seems to do that a lot, just walk away still talking.

I gain the courage to draw the curtains and look outside. There’s a big garden, almost as big as the yard
of my home back in Matombo. I recognise vegetables on the far side and fruit trees, unnaturally growing
into perfect shapes without a single stray branch. Then it’s greenery occasionally disturbed by flowers
and a small fountain surrounded by stone benches. I think when people speak of a heaven, they will be
referring to this place. I can see the gate from here, black and joined to the wall surrounding the yard. I
wish the wall was not so high so I can see outside. I keep looking through the burglar bars and trying to
breath and accept that is my life now. Roses and tall walls and soft pillows and duck feather duvets and
food galore, that’s my new life now. Overwhelmed is the best way I can described how I feel.

I may not be able to read yet but I know how to tell the time so by 4 pm I will be ready. My brothers
didn’t always hate me you know. They loved me and treated me like a princess, once upon a time. They
would teach me how to write my name and how to tell time and fill my head with stories of a city they
would go to after they finished school. They would go as far as teaching me boy things like milking the
cow, whistling and chopping up firewood. My father wanted the best for all of us and he worked hard to
give us that. One by one, he bought cows and filled our kraal. Then he died and all went belly up.
Mother stopped functioning and neglected us and with time my brothers resented her for being weak.
Then their anger spilled over and they distanced themselves further and further away from me. Up to
date, I don’t know why but I assume that my only crime was looking like my mother so looking at me
reminded them of a woman who was failing to hold down the fort. One by one, they dropped out of
school and their dreams of a lavish life in the city died. They grudgingly accepted their fate of being
villagers for eternity. Then one by one they courted and got married, and the cows in my father’s kraal
disappeared until there were only five left.

For a season, mama and I were fine. By that I mean I was fine enough for the both of us. I mothered her
and would milk the cow, make sure we ate and just kept us alive the best way I could. But the ancestors
were not done punishing us. A famine that went on for two years dealt us a severe blow mama and I
never recovered from. All our cows died, the fields were so dry they could not be worked and we
emptied our silo in less than a year. That was the beginning of our poverty. But mama still had me and
despite knowing how my brothers felt about me, I tirelessly went to them to ask for food and they gave,
so we survived.

My train of thought is derailed by the sound of the gate opening on its own. A black car drives out and
the gate closes behind it. I’m so tempted to explore this building or home, I’m still not certain what to
call it. But the last thing I need is to either get lost or to break things, so I think I’ll stay put right here.

All I do all day is zone in and out of sleep and eat of course. Looks like in the city you can eat biscuits and
drinks even if it’s not Christmas.

**********

I finally found the courage to run to the room with the TV and sit there looking at the time. It was 3 pm
when I got there. When the clock on the wall strikes 4 pm, I run back to my room and draw the curtains.
Not long after that the gate opens and the black car drives in. I’m excited now as I trace yesterday’s
footsteps to the main door and wait there. Minutes later Cass emerges from the garage and my jaw
drops. The best way I can describe the way he looks right now is, wealthy. He looks so rich like even
problems would turn the other way when they see him approaching.

His uniform looks like it was made specifically for him and the black blazer he has on completes the look.
He looks relaxed though with his satchel draped over one shoulder and a Ngqabutho-identical smile on
his face. “I wish I could offer you food but I didn’t cook”, I say after greetings. I won’t mention how I
didn’t even consider it. “It’s all good, we’ll pop some leftovers into the microwave. Come, tell me about
your day”, he says walking past me. I tail him all the way to his room and stand by the door listening to
him go on about how easy the exam was and how he should have just slept last night instead of
stressing out. He talks! But I prefer it that way because then I’m not expected to say much.

He throws his satchel on the bed and kicks off his shoes. “Let’s rather eat when we get to school. Go and
change and I’ll change too, then we’ll meet up with my friends”, he says. “I’m ready!”, I say with
confidence. I have on my best dress and my only decent pair of shoes. He looks at me up and down like
he’s just seen a dead person. He pulls out his phone from his pocket, dials and paces. When he speaks I
only hear his side.

“Bro, SOS”, he says into the phone.

“Look, my cuz is here and she’s coming with me to the dance but bro I need a miracle. Think your girl
can fix her up?”

“She needs clothes bro and shoes and I don’t know, everything! Head to toe. Everything”

“Ok, talk to her and call me right back”.

“See you in a bit”.

I’m looking at him with folded arms. “No offence Lwezi but you need a miracle! Give me a minute let me
dress up so we can go”, he says. I’m not sure how to feel. I want to cry because this is my best dress and
mama always said it looks beautiful. I even attempted to comb my hair today. I feel sad as I wait down
the corridor.

“Cool let’s go”, Cass says moments later. Now I understand what he meant when he told his friend I
need a miracle. We look worlds apart. He’s dressed in a black suit with a white shirt showing underneath
but without a tie. His shoes look clean and black and costly.

We drive out and my face is stuck to the window the whole way. Such big houses, so many cars, such
flat and polished roads, such organised trees. We keep going and if he had to stop and leave me here I
wouldn’t find my way back. I keep asking “What is that?”, and he responds every time and explains
things in detail. We leave the leafy suburbs and drive past industries and factories as Cass calls them.
I’ve heard about them. All our boys aspire to grow up and come and work here. Deep down I always
envied them. But watching the thick smoke rising from chimneys and the stench of chemicals in the air
and loud machinery that I can hear from here, I think I’ll let that envy go. These factories are not a place
I would want to wake up every morning and go to.

We pass houses, also lined up along a road but not quite like where we came from. These ones are
smaller and not as organised. Some have hedges and some fences and some have wall with interesting
patterns. The road also has holes and is irregular and is not as black as the one in Cass’s side of town. In
some places the black colour just ends and then it’s dust road then it begins again. I really can’t figure
out how they made it.

Cass pulls over in front of a yellow house and comes and gets my door. “We are here”, he says. We walk
into the yard without announcing ourselves and he just opens the door of the house without knocking!
How disrespectful. “Sipho!”, he calls and a muscular looking boy in a suit shows up still trying to fix his
tie. “Lose the tie bro, we’re not that old!”, Cass says. I extend my hand and genuflect as I say hello. “Ok
Lwezi you have to stop shaking hands and genuflecting. Just don’t do it”, Cass says, not unkindly though.
“Jackie is waiting, let’s go”, Sipho says after greeting, leaving behind his tie and changing his shoes three
times. From what I overheard, he wanted to wear AllStars with his suit because it looks slick but Cass
said it’s too ghetto.

We drive down the road and two right turns later we pull over at another house. I’m quite the good
sheep so I follow my shepherds into the house and at least they knock here. A bubbly light skinned girl
wearing a pink nightgown opens the door. “I’m not done dressing up yet babe”, she says giving Sipho a
kiss. “Hi Cass and hi….”, she says to us. She freezes when she sees me. “Sipho you said she needed a
slight touch up, you didn’t tell me she needs an entire makeover!”, she says. I think I should be
offended. “But Jacks, you good with these things! If anyone can fix her up it’s you”, Cass says. “Flattery
won’t suddenly give me the ability to perform magic Castiel!”, she says. It’s interesting how she rolls her
tongue when she speaks, making words appear ummm different. “Come on baby, do it for me then, you
know I’ll reward you later”, Sipho says pulling her in for a kiss. “Fine, come with me girlfriend”, she takes
my hand and leads me into the house and into a room full of clothes on the bed.

She takes off her gown and I don’t understand how she fit into that dress! It’s so tight, it’s literally glued
to her body. She makes me sit and pulls out a bag that she refers to as her ‘emergency kit’. “But lawe did
you have to put vaseline on your face? Come, let’s go and wash your face”, she says. After that she tells
me to trust her and makes my face her artbook. She paints and draws and powders. I don’t know how
many things have been put on my face.

“Where are your parents?”, I ask after she’s been telling me about her school and Sipho and a whole lot
of thing I don’t think you tell someone the first time you meet them. “They are in Joburg, it’s just me and
my sister here”, she says. “So no adults?”, I ask. “Nope, I’m the adult”, she says. “It’s good though, I can
pretty much do whatever I want”, she says. The comb goes so harshly through my hair I let out a loud
ouch. “You have beautiful hair, you know that? I should take you to the salon and they will treat it. But
we don’t have much time right now so clench your teeth and let me comb you”, she says. The pain! She
sprays something on it, combs it out and bundles it up with a small scarf, allowing the curls to fall
around it. “You are very beautiful”, she says staring at me staring at myself in the mirror.

“You quite petite so I’m not sure what you’ll wear, try this on let’s see”, she helps me into a short black
dress without sleeves. I feel naked in it with most of my thighs and arms exposed. “No need to try
anything else. You look perfect. Keep the dress it looks perfect on you”, she says. I thank her and keep
looking in the mirror. I look different, very different but I’m afraid to tell her I’d prefer something more
decent. “You’ll have to wear my lil sister’s shoes with that foot size. Too bad because I have killer heels
you’ll have rocked”, she says. I’m made to try on shoe after shoe but I can barely stand in any, so she
settles for a ‘short heel’ that even a ‘Grade one can walk in’. Much much better. Perfumes and a few
touch ups later, I follow her red dress clad self out of the room and find the boys in the sitting room. Yes,
sitting room, I listen and learn.
“Wow! Jackie wiped the rural off you in 45 minutes! You look human now!”, Sipho says. “Not cool bro”,
Cass says. “And me?”, Jackie asks standing on heels so tall I would like her to explain to me how she’s
walking in them without falling forward. “Told you, you work magic baby. Now look at you. You look
edible, I could chow you right now”, Sipho says and Jackie just blushes and locks her arm around his.
They look and sound wrong but they also look and sound happy and free.

“Stand there Lwezi, I need to take a pic to send to Ngqa”, Cass says. I just stand there, no pose at all,
feeling uncomfortable in this skin tight of a dress. Then it’s time to take a group selfie, then Cass and I,
then Jackie and Sipho, then Jackie and I. The picture taking just goes on and on and my smile is tired
now.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I have been to the school in the village and it’s nothing like this. It doesn’t even compare, it would be like
comparing coal and gold! This school has a wall all around it and a big gate and there are so many cars
orderly parked inside. I don’t see adults in sight, only the man guarding the gate meaning all these cars
belong to children? Matombo has a very long way to go then! Boys smart in suits and girls tall in high
heels are all flocking in pairs towards one building. The Beit Hall, Cass called it. A big building made of
red bricks with a steeple like that of a church. It stands majestic, its two large doors aligned straight with
the gate. There is a statue of a man in front of the hall, which obviously means a lot to the school,
judging by how they went to all the trouble of setting it up on a high stone and planting flowers around
it and giving it a fountain that continuously trickles water to its feet.

I’m glad we arrived before it got dark so Cass can give me a tour. The drive here explained to me what
the villagers meant when they spoke of moral decay in the city. Looking outside the window, I saw some
girls dressed in shorts so short they should be called underwear. I was judging them harshly until I
realised I was also naked in this dress. Then Jackie and Sipho traumatised me. They were all over each
other, doing and saying things that need a room and a door. But as they giggled and kissed away, I found
myself missing Ngqabutho and wishing he was there. I like Cass, I do, he’s a beautiful soul with a heart as
big as his mouth and he brightens up my day effortlessly. He welcomed me with open arms and has
been treating me like family. He even looks like Ngqa! But he’s not Ngqa.

Sigh! Back to the school. There is organised buildings that seem to flow into each other creating an
intimidating maze of red brick buildings with arches on the roofs. The inside is quite quaint and clean,
too clean if you ask me. It’s after school so there are not many students around, just the few coming for
the party. The last party I went to was a show at the stores and there had been a poet and a group of
dancers who entertained us and a magician who could lift a wheelbarrow with his teeth! It had been fun
and Sonto and I had spoken about it for days after that. I wonder if this party will be the same.
I’m still uncomfortable in this dress but Cass has assured me over five times that I look stunning. I follow
him around as he tells me what’s what and who learns in which classroom. “Come and see this”, he
takes my hand and leads me to a glass display with many trophies inside. “See this one, that’s
Ngqabutho’s for sportsperson of the year, and that one at the corner is his as well for Debate and Public
Speaking. Then that big one at the back, that’s his again, for getting 20 points in his A’Levels. He’s quite
the show off, your boyfriend! All he had to do was do three subjects like a normal person but he chose
to do four, then went on to get straight As! How selfish is that?”, he asks. I don’t know but it doesn’t
sound like he did anything wrong. “So now imagine the pressure I’m under! Everyone compares me to
Ngqa, and I fall short every single time!”, he says. For a moment there he looks unhappy but his smile
quickly returns. “Being his cousin comes with its perks though, it scores me girls all the time”, he says. I
just smile but my focus is on the golden cup with Ngqabutho’s name on it. I study the words but it’s too
many letters so I give up.

“So Ngqa went to school here?”, I ask. “He was the head boy and Captain of the soccer team and his
relay team made it to the nationals when he was in upper 6. See the pressure I’m under? I hate your
boyfriend!”, he says laughing. This boy talks a lot! “So with Ngqa married and all, how exactly is it
working for the two of you? Are you like his mistress or something?”, he asks. “No I’m not. I don’t know
really”, I say and that’s the honest truth. “Oh well, you’ll figure something out. He’s crazy about you and
you are all he talks about these days”, he says and we walk on. He tries the doors of classrooms and they
are locked until the last one.

It’s beautiful. Rows of desks and chairs and a Blackboard sitting pretty on the wall in the front. “This one
is for Form ones that’s why it’s so basic”, he says. Basic? I would give a kidney for a chance to learn here!
“Will I learn here too?”, I find myself asking. “No. It’s a boys only school”, he says. “Oh!”, I can’t even
hide my disappointment. “I think dad will get you a private teacher or something so you can be home
schooled. I’ll help you too, I mean I have the rest of November and December before Ngqa and I go off
to University”, he adds. I suppose learning is learning. It’s just I had thought I would have a uniform and
a classroom and all that.

We walk from block to block and from end to end. My toes are killing me but Jackie said ‘Pretty hurts’ so
I soldier on. We walk into a group of boys around the corner on our way out. “Act cool, they are idiots.
Still here for soccer but the brains don’t work”, Cass says under his breath. “Hey Cass, what’s up”, some
tall guy who looks pretty old says. “Hey”, Cass says. “Where the after-party at?”, another one asks.
“Usual joint”, Cass says. “Jackie’s house is too small and there’s no privacy. Can’t we come over to
yours?”, the tall guy says. “I wish bro, but the old man is around and we can’t have a repeat of last
time”, Cass says. “My pops is around too so my house is also out”, another says. They go on about this
after-party until they agree to ‘hit the clubs’. “Sure thing, I’ll send a message in the group”, Cass says.
I stand there, forgotten and pulling the dress up in an attempt to cover more of my chest and then down
to cover more of my thighs. It’s hectic! I’m squashed inside this piece of a dress like a sausage in a
casing. “Ain’t you going to introduce us to this hottie? Surely she’s not yours, you rolling with that pretty
little thing these days”, the tall one says. “This is my friend from Mozambique. She only speaks
Portuguese. Stay away from her”, Cass says. “She’s doable, and maybe she can teach me some
Portuguese? You know body language doesn’t need explaining!”, the tall one says stepping towards me.
“Hey baby cakes”, he says groping my arm. I try to shrug him off but he holds me firmly and goes off at
me in English. All the while I’m thinking, I need English lessons urgently because it’s like that’s all
everyone speaks around here! “Let her go!”, Cass says unsmiling and stepping towards me. “Or what?”,
the arm groper says, obviously not intimidated by Cass. “She’s Ngqabutho’s girl”, Cass says. The guy let’s
my arm go and curses. “Come Lwezi let’s go”, Cass says taking my hand. As we walk away I hear one of
the guys saying, “Lwezi? Portuguese?”.

“Look, try and stick with me tonight ok. If we lose each other just be careful. Don’t accept drinks from
anyone or agree to dance with any boys, alright? He’ll be here soon”, he says. I nod. “Wait, who will be
here?”, I ask. “Don’t worry about it, you look stunning and we gonna have a good time, me and you”, he
says. The hall is packed and it’s loud and everyone has a paper cup in their hands. I thought this dress I
have on is short but now I’m thinking maybe it’s one of the longest here.

It's music all round and people are dancing and I'm standing with Cass at the back smiling like a retard.
The happiness in this hall is contagious. There were a few teachers earlier but they are all gone and it's
just two by two now. This dancing kodwa! I'm watching Jackie and Sipho and the way she's rubbing
herself on him looks almost sexual. I wish Sonto was here. I can see her enjoying this kind of scene.

“You ok Cass?”, I ask. He's been on his phone a lot. “I'm good. Sorry about that”, he says. “Do you
wanna dance?”, he asks. “I don't know this kind of dancing”, I say, pointing at a girl wiggling it. I'm sure
it's called the Caterpillar! “We'll dance right here till you are comfortable”, he says and I reluctantly
agree. He guides me in front of him. He’s so close and I don't want his hands on my waist. He's touching
me the way Ngqa touches me and it feels wrong. Only Ngqa should touch me like this. But looking
around, everyone is glued onto someone so maybe I should go with the flow. “Just move with me. Let
me guide you. Listen to the music”, Cass says. When Cass laughs, he looks so much like Ngqa it’s scary.

I find my rhythm soon enough and dance carefully. Cass’s phone rings just as I’m beginning to relax and
feel the music. “He’s here, come”, Cass says dragging me. My first instinct is fear. Uncle can’t see me
dressed like this, like I’m selling something! But it’s not a discussion and I follow him outside like the
good sheep I am.

There stands my prince leaning against a lamp post, his hands across his chest and relaxed with one leg
over the other. He has on extremely tattered blue jeans and a white T-Shirt. Clearly he needs help.
When he comes to the city I will patch all his jeans up, he can’t walk around like this. It looks so nice on
him though I almost like it. “Ngqa”, I call out and run to him. “Damn, little mama!”, he says as I throw
my arms around him. Tonight I learnt that showing love in public is not a bad thing so I go ahead and let
him kiss me. “Guess my job here is done! Can I go now?”, Cass says disturbing our peace. Ngqa turns me
around and is holding me with my back on him and his hands around me.

“Young blood, I need a second with you. Lwezi, just a minute my pretty one”, Ngqa says to Cass, leaving
me with a forehead kiss”. They talk and Cass has his back to me so I can’t see his face. Ngqa looks
concerned and somewhat stressed, I can tell by the way he’s overusing his hands and furrowing his
brow. I hope it’s not about me. After a long time they are done and that worried look is still on Ngqa’s
face.

“Let’s go into the hall and dance”, Ngqa says, taking my hand. I’m still excited that he’s here and I’m
wondering how he knew I would be here. “Ngqa”, a guy nods and he nods back. “Ngqa”, a group of girls
scream when they see him and he flashes them a charming smile. It’s ‘Ngqa’ everywhere and I think the
feeling I’m getting is called jealousy. The girls are looking at him like he’s a biscuit waiting to be eaten!
Everyone knows him and now all eyes are on him, meaning they are all on me! I don’t like it.

He gets a drink from a table at the back and asks me if I’ve had anything to drink. I say no and whisper to
him that I have no clue what all these things are but I’m starving. He laughs at me and ruffles my hair.
“No Ngqabutho, don’t touch her hair!”, Jackie appears from somewhere. “Jacks, hello to you too!”, Ngqa
says. I don’t know but I sense animosity. “It took me forever to make your girl look this beautiful! So
keep your dirty hands off her hair!”, Jackie says, crossing her arms and standing in a defensive stance.
“Unlike some people, she doesn’t need makeup to have a face! She’s pretty either way”, Ngqa says.
“Ngqabutho Nxumalo…”, Jackie starts. “Come Lwezi, let’s get out of here”, he says. I’m not given a
chance to say no. I look at Jackie and I could swear she looks hurt, but I follow my boyfriend through the
crowd and out the door.

What was that about?

I follow him to Cass’s car and we drive off. I don’t ask where to. It’s night time now but the city doesn’t
know darkness. The sun may set but the street lamps stay blazing till the sun comes back again the next
day. We pull up on the side of the road and Ngqa gets my door for me. “Welcome to Centenary Park my
love”, he says. I took off those pinching shoes in the car and I step out barefoot. “Are we supposed to be
here?”, I ask. It looks too deserted. “No, probably not but rules are made to be broken, right?”, he says.
“No, rules are made to be followed!”, I say sternly. He needs to say things right!
“I’m sure Cass has a jacket here somewhere, you are getting goosebumps on your arms”, he says. It’s
fine, let him think it’s the cold but it’s not. It’s him. He presses the keys and the back of the car opens on
its own. I’m fast learning that things open on their own in the city so maybe I’ll never have to struggle
with opening a bottle of Coca Cola with my teeth. It will open itself! He finds nothing to put over my
dress. I wasn’t cold to begin with.

“You look beautiful. I had an instant hard on when I saw you”, he says, brushing my face and pushing me
back into the side of the car. Without the shoes, I’ve dropped down to my natural height leaving him
taller. “You look gorgeous, drop dead!”, he says. I blush hard. I’ve been feeling uncomfortable but now I
feel beautiful. “Do you love me Lwezi?”, he asks. His eyes command the truth and before he’s my
boyfriend, he’s my prince and you don’t lie to the prince. “I do, with all that I am”, I confess. He keeps
his eyes in mine and I know he loves me, his eyes don't lie.

We talk some more and I bombard him with question after question. “Lwezi, stay away from Jackie!
She’s bad news”, he says. “She’s nice!”, I defend the girl who saved me today. “Just trust me, she’s not
the kind of girl you want to hang around, so just stay away from her”, he says. “Why don’t you like
her?”, I ask. “Just stay away from her Little Miss Stubborn!”, he says. I shrug my shoulders. I will decide
who I stay away from, thank you.

We walk into the park and I fill him in on how my city stay has been and he keeps laughing at me when I
try and explain how I looked behind the TV to see if the people on screen were there. It’s pretty dark
and the lamps here are quite dim but our eyes are young and eager to see. “How did you get here? You
also have a car like Cass?”, I ask. “I have a car yes, didn’t you see it in the garage at home? Cass drives it
sometimes when I’m not around”, he asks. “The red one?”, I ask. “Yep, that’s our baby, baby”, he says
and throws his arm around me. “But if your car is here, how did you come from the village?”, I’m a little
bit confused. “The driver brought me and I should be back in the village by early morning so I can do my
rounds”, he says. “You leaving tonight?”, I ask without masking the sadness in my voice. “I have to. Duty
calls”, he says. That makes me sad.

“I got you a phone and that’s the one thing I need you to know how to use”, he says. We spend some
time with him showing me all the basics. And since I happen to not be knowledgeable in the way of
words, he shows me how to make a call, how to load a juice card, it’s easy really, I have to look for the
character on the screen that looks like the one on the paper then touch that. Then beautiful WhatsApp.
All I have to do is send voice notes. I keep giggling as I try not to laugh as Ngqa replays them on his
phone. Hearing your voice from a device is funny yet fascinating. “You don’t have to scream at the
phone my love. I will hear you”, he says.

“When will I go to school? Where is the school?”, I ask. “Oh ya that. Look babe, you can’t go to a normal
school like everyone else. So you’ll go to night school and I think dad paid for a tutor to help you during
the day. You’ll be just fine”, he says. “Ok”, I say. “How will I get there?”, I ask. “I’m sure arrangements
have been made. I’ll be back next week and I’ll be taking you. We’ll be living under the same roof after
all!”, he says and nudges me playfully. “Ok”, I say. “Ngqa, why is the chief so nice to me?”, I ask.
“Because he’s a chief and he’s sworn to protect his people. You were a young girl living alone, he had to
protect you”, he says. “No, that can’t be it! I know the laws. I have family so they should have protected
me. So try again!”, I say. “Well, to be honest I don’t know. I think maybe he understands what me and
you shared and he did this for me”, he says. That’s a better explanation.

“Let’s go back to school, I think we need some me and you time”, he says and I keep looking at him
mesmerised. He has these eyes and this smile and this face. And when I look at his ears running away
from his head, I giggle remembering the first time I met him. He is the best thing I might never have.

Back at the school it’s chaos. It’s boy and girl either hugging or kissing or touching too much, some
pressed against each other against walls, some behind trees, some against cars. It’s like a contest. I don’t
ask where we are going as we go around the hall and into a building at the back. It was locked but Ngqa
‘unlocked it’ with a knife. I think it’s called breaking in! He says it’s the changing rooms. He doesn’t give
me a chance to look around and ask my usual ‘what is this?’.

I’m worried we might get caught but the lights are off and Ngqa says we are safe here. The bench is a bit
hard on my back and his hand is on my mouth to shut down the noise. His body feels heavy but I don’t
think I would have it any other way. And as he whispers into my ear, words that make my toes curl and a
promise of a love everlasting, I give in to him and let my body go. I wonder where he learnt to do all this!
Afterwards we lie there panting and trying to catch our breath.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The rest of last night is a blur. I remember crying because Ngqa had to leave. But he had to leave. I don’t
know when I became such a softie. I used to feel and deal with my emotions in my head and say very
little. But all that is changing and these days I find myself stronger and weaker at the same time, a tug of
war that I can’t seem to win. I wish I could say I’m fighting for my love with Ngqabutho, but am I? Or
rather, should I? Who am I fighting and what am I fighting for exactly? I ask myself that question
sometimes and I return to zero sensible answers, so instead, I take the easier path - hope. Hope that
love conquers all and so it will take care of this predicament for me.

We are villages apart and no amount of wishful thinking can change that. He’s worthy and I’m unworthy.
He’s a prince and I’m an orphan without the slightest touch of royalty and its graces. He’s the moon and
stars and I’m charcoal and ashes. Just look at the school he went to and I didn’t even deserve a school to
begin with. He’s so way out of my league I’m playing a different sport all together.
Ngqa and I are just building sand castles in the air if we are being honest. We are two children playing
with mud at the river, building clay houses. We polish them and decorate them with sand and smooth
marbles that reflect the light like diamonds. We’re building our castle out of sand and mud! Yet despite
the giggles, the forbidden touches, the pretty words and the bond we share, I know that it’s the rainy
season and the tide will soon rise and sweep our castle away. I know all that but I’m choosing to ignore
reality and hold on a little while longer. When the time comes and the clay turns to mud and the mud
dissolves back into the river, I’ll know deep in my heart that I was a princess for a season.

I know I’ll never be good enough but every time a thought of him walks across my mind, I smile and
forget. The things he says to me are enough to brighten the darkest of days. He made last night
memorable! What with the phone, the park, the loving on the bench and everything in between. Oh
that bench part hurt a little still, inside out, but I’m still learning how to ride that bicycle and Ngqa says it
will get better in time. And something about him makes me believe everything he says and trust him
without reservations.

My low of the night was when Ngqa had to head back to Matombo. His goodbye hugs always leave me
wondering if I’ll ever see him again. He left me with a “You are my girl Lwezi and I love you with the very
essence of my being. I curse the day I was born a prince”. I know he wishes to be with me but I suppose
he cares enough not to sell me dreams. He isn’t promising to make me his wife or anything. He
journeyed to the mountains and made a pact with his ancestors. He accepted the throne and vowed to
abide by all the rules. What kind of demon would I be to ask someone to break such a covenant? The
great spirits would come for me with lightning and thunder I’m most certain.

Besides, if the city has taught me anything in this short space of time, it’s that I’m a child and way too
young for marriage. So dreams of a husband and kids and a marriage are slowly fading. All I need right
now is education. I can’t let the chief down after he went out of his way to do this for me. I can picture
myself sitting cross legged, wearing spectacles and speaking English through my nose. Now that will be
life!

Ngqa loaded a song on my phone that I think I’ll be replaying for days on end. I don’t know what it says
really. He said it’s by Tory Lanez something and he sang along to it while we were cuddling in the
darkness of the changing rooms. And boy does his voice do things to me! So as I listen to it, all I hear is
his voice. One line is stuck in my head, ‘24 hours in a day, I think about you more than 24 times…’.
Having a phone is so cool and Cass said he’ll help me with other ‘Apps and shit’, his words not mine.

I got lost in my thoughts there, as usual. What was I saying again? Oh yes, last night! So last night before
the noble prince of Matombo left, he and the driver stopped by a club downtown where Cass and his
friends were at. The driver remained in the car, as he had done all night shame, while we went into the
club. Ngqa had to do a lot of talking and convincing to an unnaturally big man by the door to say I was
legal, I just happen to look small. He eventually let us in and I was in there for maybe 5 minutes tops. 5
minutes too long if you ask me! I saw enough to know that, that is no place I wish to be caught dead in. I
can confidently say I have taken a trip to hell and returned to tell the tale. The debauchery!

The unventilated building was packed with over-happy teenagers falling into and onto each other,
looking possessed as they danced under lights flashing all colours of the rainbow. The music was so loud
I think my insides were vibrating in response. Most seemed to be drinking things they probably
shouldn’t have been. They were laughing a bit too loud, dressed a tad bit unholy and dancing a little too
hard. It was more like the dancing of a newly graduated sangoma with the contorting and the twisting
and the wiggling. It was just not me. Funny enough everyone seemed to be having fun in there! Even the
girls that looked my age sitting on laps of men as old as the chief seemed genuinely happy! I might never
understand the city, I should make peace with that.

Cass and his friends sat at a corner, with a table full of drinks, smoking something Ngqa called a hookah.
I have never seen that before and it was weird watching Cass blow out a cloud of smoke from his mouth.
They had changed from their suits into jeans and T-shirts and looked chilled and happy. Everyone
seemed happy and carefree in that place. I wonder how they could hear one another over that loud
music! Jackie was sitting with her thighs sprawled bare on top of Sipho, with Sipho’s hand a little bit too
high in her dress. She too like everyone else was laughing too loud and acting skanky and calling me
‘bitch’. I don’t know why Ngqa would hate a girl so full of life! I like her, maybe because she reminds me
of Sonto.

I got that the whole scene was somewhat insane but what I didn’t get was why Ngqabutho got angry
with Cass. One minute they were talking and the next he picked sweet Cass by the neck of his T-shirt and
dragged him outside and pinned him against the wall. Cass looked scared and Ngqa was fuming and me,
well me I was forgotten on the sidelines. All I heard before he turned to me and said “Lwezi, car, now!”,
was “Castiel Nxumalo you will not do this! I’m not walking down this road with you again! You can’t do
this! You promised”.

They came a while later and found me waiting patiently leaning against the car. I think Cass was crying
because he kept rubbing his eyes. I was so tempted to ask what that was about but I can’t be
questioning men now like that. If they think I should know, they will tell me. In the mean time I will just
wonder. Ngqa gave me a long hug and many kisses and see you soons. Then he opened the back seat
door for me and I sat there crying, not wanting him to leave. I watched through the window as he held
Cass in his arms but although I could see lips moving, I couldn’t hear what was being said. Then he
opened the door for Cass and waited till the engine was running. “Take care young blood. I’ll be home
soon and we’ll get through this, ok? You know I got you”. Then with a final bye to me and a quick kiss he
walked away to the van. The drive home was awfully silent and to stop from sleeping I listened to my
song.

It must have been around 3 am when we snuck into the house, shoes off and on tiptoe. I fell asleep as
soon as my head hit the pillow, ignoring Jackie’s instructions of ‘you should never sleep with makeup on
girlfriend!’. Surely one day won’t kill. As I lay down to sleep I dreamt of mama. She’s been heavy on my
mind lately, I think it’s the loneliness of being in a new place and feeling like I don’t quite fit in.

She was sitting on the river bank back in the village, her feet dangling in water and her afro crown
looking majestic without the doek to hide it. I may sound wrong but she looks so much better dead than
she did alive. The river was overflowing, water trickling in small streams on the land over the bank. I
stood a stone’s throw away from her wondering why she wasn’t moving away from the river. The water
looked redder than usual and thick and almost alive. If I didn’t know any better I would have said the
river was gurgling blood. Mama sat there, playing with her feet in the water and humming softly.
“Mama”, I called out. I needed her to move away from there, couldn’t she see that the river was raging?
At the call of her name, she turned around and smiled at me. A smile she wore so tiredly in her last
years, to give me a fake hope that she was still in there somewhere.

“Lwezi. It won’t last. Nothing ever does”, she said. “Whatever do you mean mama?”, I asked, more
concerned by why she wasn’t moving away from the river than what she was trying to tell me. The tide
was rising fast and she had disappeared into the water waist down, yet she still smiled gloriously like she
sat on a cloud or something. “Mama, get away from there!”, I yelled at her. “No Lwezi, it’s you who
should get away from there!”, she said. Her words sounded severe and urgent but her voice came out
soft, soothing and almost melodious. “You see this river? The restlessness? The fury? The blood? What
do you think it means?”, she asked. “I don’t know. What does it mean?”, I asked. “I’ll tell you what it
means”, she said standing up, her white dress reddened by the water.

I woke up panting and sweating. The dream was real. She meant to tell me something. I’m old enough to
know the difference between a nightmare and a message from the other side. I had to get up and switch
on the lights to check if I wasn’t back at the river. Whatever she wanted to tell me was important and
why I was jerked back into wakefulness before I could hear it, beats me. I tried thinking of Ngqa so I
could grasp at happier thoughts but nothing that didn’t leave a sour taste in my mouth came to mind.

The worst thing about encountering a dead person is that when you wake up you can’t go back to them
and ask for clarity. I sat on the bed hugging a pillow, thinking maybe I should go back to sleep. Hoping
maybe the dream would go on and mama would explain herself. But I was terrified of going back there.
What next? Would the river consume me? Would whatever I had to leave destroy me if I didn’t? What
did she mean? I sat there cradling the pillow and shivering but not pulling up the blanket.
“Great spirits and all my forefathers gone before me, please grant me protection and strength. Please
look after me and clear the path on which I walk. If I have upset you in any way, please receive my
humble apologies, I’m nothing but an ignorant child, I don’t understand half the things I do. Please do
not forsake me”, I said a silent prayer. I need guidance for I know not what this city and its fast life have
in store for me. Ngqa said I must stay true to myself and never compromise my values for anyone. Easier
said than done because do I even know who I am to begin with?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Hours became days and seven days became a week and four of those turned into a month, then into
another and into another. Time went by and sometimes I felt left behind as it flew past. But despite all
the challenges, I tried my best to keep up, stumbling and falling but getting up all the time. Life was just
that...LIFE. Not strawberries and cream but also not hailstones and fire. It was just that...LIFE. And I
suppose since I’m still alive, I’m succeeding at it. No one said it would be easy and difficult is no new
term to me.

In the beginning it was good. And you know what they say, ‘if it's too good to be true it probably is’. I
had Cass caring about me and Ngqa loving me and the helper uAunty, helping me and treating me like a
daughter. It was a little piece of heaven and I was a baby Angel with broken wings to which everyone
tended to.

I had to learn fast because whoever said ignorance is bliss never walked a mile in my shoes. Ignorance is
embarrassing! In two weeks I could confidently say I had a grip on things. I now knew what was what,
what did what and where what was. I helped uAunty with the cooking, the laundry and the dishes. Not
that any help was needed anyway because the stove did all the cooking, the washing machine and drier
took care of the laundry and the dishwasher did the dish washing. There wasn't much to do except press
buttons and watch magic happen.

There was food galore and I could eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I hardly ever saw uncle,
Cass father. He was both an early bird and a night owl, leaving the house before I woke up and returning
home late at night. All he would say is “How was your day?” and “Goodnight”. He had said we would
speak the day after I first arrived here but three months later we still haven’t had a conversation longer
than 5 minutes.

He’s always in a suit and carrying a bag and usually shouting on the phone. He has this consistent tired
look on his kind face. Cass said he runs his own company and believes in doing things himself that’s why
he was always so stressed. The the few minutes I ever spoke to him, he was kind and always asked if I
had everything I needed. He reminded me a lot of the chief, the only difference being he laughed a lot
less.

My first week was spent shadowing Cass as he ‘showed me the ropes’. I owe that boy a piece of my
heart because never had the kindness of a stranger felt so warm! He treated me like a little sister and
would laugh at me when I did something silly, like the time I cooked lettuce thinking it was cabbage! His
laughing at me was never malicious but was friendly and it encouraged me to laugh at myself. His
friends would come around and they would play games while I sat quietly at a corner of the sofa
observing silently. They all drove beautiful cars, except Sipho, and they spoke in a dialect of English I
came to know as slang. It was a fascinating play of words that had me confused and mesmerised at the
same time. And everytime Cass went out with his friends, I tagged along. His idea of fun was not exactly
fun and included a lot of drinking and smoking and partying. That always left me sitting at a corner with
earphones on listening to music. The partying became more frequent when Cass broke up with his
girlfriend because her family was migrating to the diaspora. He wasn't cut out for long distance
relationships, he said. I found that funny because he hardly saw her anyway because of her curfews and
always being grounded. It amazed me how much they knew about dating and relationships at their age!

Then Jackie oh precious Jackie! The life of the party, the girl with a larger than life personality, the girl
who laughs so loudly and so ratchedly I’m sure her ancestors go to sleep when she wakes up so they
won't have to hear the things that come out of her mouth. Deep down I envy her. She is lively and
carefree and looks like a million bucks every time. Plus she stays with her sister and has the whole house
to herself and her parents shower them with money. She is alive and I wish I had her energy and her
happiness is contagious.

I asked Cass why Ngqa wanted me to stay away from Jackie and he said ‘Just listen to him Lwezi!’ then
changed the subject. I had meant to ask what his fight with Ngqa was about but I decided against it. If
they thought I should know they would have let me know. It was hard to stay away from Jackie with
Cass dragging me to his parties where Jackie was always there. So there was no avoiding her and we
became friends with time and would send each other voice notes.

Ngqa was in and out of town. His room was right next to mine. He made it clear that uncle could never
find out about us and I nodded as usual, no questions asked. He would spend three or so days in town
and then return to the village to be a prince. The nights he spent in that house were spent in my bed
over my body. Those were the best times of my stay there. Ngqa and I avoided speaking of his marriage
and his princess like the plague. We never discussed not to discuss it but somehow we just knew.
Jackie always said Ngqa was a jerk and a heartbreaker and that I deserved so much better. But she
always said “never mind” OR “long story” when I probed further. So I never got to know the meaning of
her words as much as I never got to know why Ngqa wanted me to avoid her.

One Saturday morning I woke up to noise and raised voices. Ngqa jumped out of my bed and into his
clothes quickly and dashed out of the room. I joined later and uAunty was kind enough to fill me in. Cass
had a fight with his dad and got into his car and drove straight into the wall. Apparently that was the
third car he had driven into a wall in a fit of rage. I watched as Ngqa carried his unconscious cousin into
uncle’s bigger car and they all drove off leaving uAunty and I standing there. Well that’s the last time I
saw Cass. Uncle said he would be ‘away’ for a while. He wasn’t forthcoming with details and uAunty
simply said “he has a big problem that one” and stopped at that. Ngqa kept me in the dark as well and
since no one seemed keen to tell me, I let it go. I missed Cass painfully especially when Ngqa was away
but I didn’t complain. I had gone to the city to learn and so I had to put my feelings aside and focus in
my focus. I shadowed uAunty and did my chores in silence, like a good little girl.

Then school, my precious school. From 5 pm to 9 pm every week day I sit on a wooden desk with a book,
a pencil and reading material, listening to our teacher. He’s a kind man with a big face and big spectacles
and a sharp voice. The first time we met he said he didn’t understand how I could have been treated so
inhumanely and denied a basic human right. I tried to explain to him that nothing inhumane had been
done to me, it’s the order of things, girls just don’t go to school where I come from! It's as normal as my
right arm. He still maintained it was wrong and said he would file a complaint with the Ministry of
something so that someone could go over there in the Bundus and do something about it. I was done
arguing with him at that point. He was both my elder, a man and a figure of authority, disrespecting
him would be a crime of the highest order.

School has been easier than I expected. Maybe it’s my passion coupled with the determination to read
the letter Ngqa gave me on his wedding night or it’s all the help Cass gave me before he was taken
away. I don’t know. All I know is I’m getting to literacy avenue very fast. There’s eleven of us in the class.
They are quite old and quite slow if I’m being honest so the teacher always gives me extra homework to
do while he helps them.

All this seems like a memory from long ago now! Mama used to visit me in my dreams, giving me
tangled messages that just confused me and terrified me more and more every night. I couldn’t
interpret them and I had no one to ask. I still don't get why she couldn't woman up and tell me exactly
what she had meant to say! Maybe I wouldn't be in this situation right now.

My introduction to the city was heaven. I was met with smiles and warm hugs and kind words. But as
weeks turned into months I watched my dream fade deeper and deeper into the horizon until today
when it disappeared. It's all gone. Our sand castles all washed back into the river.
Things started going down hill the day Cass’s mother came home. A gorgeous woman with nails as long
as talons and eyelashes as fluffy as bird feathers. Too bad her heart is nothing like her face! She looked
like the innocent flower but was a venomous serpent underneath. Around people she treated me like a
princess, like the daughter she never had! She even dressed me up in the finest garb and had my hair
treated in salons. But when everyone was gone she would show her true colours and treat me like a
contagious disease. I still don't understand it to this day, it's as if she was two different people loving in
one body.

She had been on a trip overseas when I first got there and from the day she arrived, I should have
known. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was woken up by a loud voice shouting for Cass. “I’m home.
Castiel! Honey, I’m home. Come give your mum some love baby”, the voice had shouted down the
passage. I can still hear the sound of her stiletto walking the tiles down the corridor because that’s the
sound I came to detest. I had jumped out of bed and looked through the keyhole but couldn’t see
anything. I had quickly put on a decent dress, washed my face and practiced a smile. “No one saw it fit
to wait up so they could welcome me home? I was gone for what? A month and there’s no love left here
for me?”, the voice had gone on. She reminded me of the women back in the village. Loud, belligerent
and always ready to provoke for no particular reason. She turned out to be exactly that minus the
villagism of course. Her voice alone told me she could gossip about the entire village all on her own.

I was about to open the door when I heard uncle’s voice. It is known that interrupting adults is rude so I
had stayed in my room. They were standing right outside my door and I heard uncle telling her to lower
her voice but that just made her turn up the volume. “How dare you, SaCass? After everything, how
dare you? I don’t want garbage in my house!”, she had said. Uncle had tried to shoosh her but she
wasn’t having it. “How could you sweep trash into my house without discussing it with me first!”, she
raged on. They had walked away from my door then and I could hear her voice screaming down the
walls. That’s the day I knew it was over for me.

Later that morning when I knelt down to greet her, she’d smiled graciously at me and called me her
pretty little angel with the most gorgeous hair she's ever seen. But the moment everyone left her smile
left with them and she told me should I even think of sleeping with her husband I would know her. Why
she would even think of that beats me to this day.

So life as I knew it became two faced. The one beautiful face everyone gave me and the ugly, bitter face
when it was just her and I alone. So many times I wished I could tell someone about it but I always
remembered I was a guest and would not sow discord. I explained my tears as missing home to anyone
who saw them fall. I needed to stay there and go to school and I would not say a word.
Then this morning my whole world came tumbling down. Brick by brick the sky fell in me and I was left
holding on to clouds only to find out they were not solid. I was making her eggs for breakfast when I felt
like throwing up. I ran to the bathroom down the passage and threw up. When I turned around, Cass’s
mum was standing by the door with her arms crossed looking at me with fire in her eyes. “Who’s the
father?”, she asked. I looked at her not understanding. “You’ve been throwing up the whole week! So
who’s the father?”, she asked. I pondered her question, honestly not getting her question.

“Oh lawd this dum dum! You are pregnant so tell me, who got you pregnant?”, she yelled at me. The
word pregnant hit me square in the face and left me feeling dizzy and balancing on the sink. “Is it my
husband? Is it the teacher at the school? Who is it? Is it my husband?”, she yelled. Her words were a
blur as I was still trying to figure things out in my head. I’d been sick all week yes but it only in the
morning and I'm ok the rest of the day. That doesn’t mean I’m pregnant!

“I’m not”, I said to her in a pitiful whisper, trying to convince myself more than her. “You are not what?”,
she asked. “I'm not pregnant”, I whispered to her through trembling lips. “You think I don’t know these
things? You think Castiel fell off a tree and I just picked him up? Huh?”, she yelled. "Vele from the first
time I saw you, I knew you were trouble! I knew that respect you portrayed was fake. I knew it!", she
went on and on and on.

I wished Ngqabutho was home or uncle or even Cass. Anyone. But it was just me and her and uAunty
who becomes a church mouse in the ‘Madam’s’ presence. “Listen pretty girl, you are a woman now and
unfortunately I’m raising children in this house. I have Cass to think of and Ngqa! Innocent children. I
won't have you corrupting them with your immorality. So pack what’s yours and get out of my house!”,
she said. “What?”, I begged more than I asked. “Did I stutter?”, she said, her face looking exactly like
what the devil would look like if he was female.

I stayed there unmoving. I had nowhere to go but like she said, she did not stutter. She packed my
things up, stuffed them in my bag and shoved me out like the trash she said I was the first time she
heard about me. “Go to whoever you opened your legs for!”, she kept yelling. I saw uAunty giving me a
pitiful corner eye but there’s nothing she could do.

As the black gate slides in place closing me on the outside, I clutch my bag and let my tears fall. I have to
call Ngqabutho, he will know what to do, but I left my phone under the pillow. Where am I supposed to
go to now?

CHAPTER NINETEEN
The road to Nowhere is the longest, most crooked and most exasperating path there is. It leads to
nothing. It is long, tiring, hard and is paved with regret, excuses, opportunities squandered and dreams
wasted. But it's also the most walked and so like many before me, I now leave my little footprints on its
tar.

I leave Cass’s home behind and walk away, scared to look back lest my tears run down faster and further
blur my vision. I’m not sure where I’m going but I need to get there as soon as yesterday. I need to get
far away from here. Around the bend, I follow the tarred road, picking up the pace and short of breaking
into a run. My eyes teary, my throat clogged, my heart shattering and my future dissipating into dust
right before my eyes, I walk on. Past the high walls, the organised trees and the beautiful gates, I keep
going. Occasionally a dog barks at me through the slits on a gate but I’m temporarily deaf so I only focus
on two stepping.

I hate, despise, curse and wish all possible evils on Cass’s mother until a voice in my head whispers ‘But
Lwezi this is all your fault!’. I try to turn off that voice but many other thoughts have joined in accusing
me. ‘What did you honestly think would happen with Ngqa getting all up in you every chance he got?’,
‘Did you actually think children were bought at a clinic?’, ‘Remember Nomasonto? The pretty girl with
the body you envied? She slept with Bongani and what happened?’. I scream for the voices to shut up
but that's like I'm urging them on. ‘Initiation school? Ring a bell? You laughed when those women told
you how men lying with you was to make children! You laughed, but who’s having the last laugh now?’ I
might be going crazy but I'm certain I hear mama's voice saying “I tried to warn you my little one but you
didn't listen. Look what you’ve done now”.

When this news reaches the village everyone is going to laugh at me. My brothers will snigger, the
women at the river will have gossip and speculation for days, the chief will most certainly be
disappointed and Ngqabutho….how will Ngqa feel? Will he say "It’s ok my pretty one, marry me and be
mine for all eternity. Let’s walk on flowers and live happily ever after"? And my mother and father
looking at me from the other side, they must be so disappointed in me. They didn’t raise me like this!
Technically I raised myself but it’s not time for technicalities right now. The truth is I see how stupid I
was but right now is also not the time for truths. I deserve ‘Donkey of the day’ because this time I
messed up so hard I have no idea how I will get out of the mud.

I keep walking further and further away from the place I called home for a few months. Nothing never
lasts. I get to the robots and only when a kombi hoots loudly and the driver yells obscenities at me, do I
realise the robot was green for motorists. I say a silent sorry and run across the next lane and stop on
the island. Cars swoosh past and for a brief second I’m tempted to step onto the road and end all this
once and for all. I could if my conscience would let me. If I die here my spirit will never rest. What if I’m
never identified? My spirit won’t be collected and returned to my father’s home so I’ll end up roaming
aimlessly unable to cross over.
The robot eventually turns red and I walk across to the other side and take a seat on the cold metal that
make the bus stop bench. Nomasonto is heavy on my mind. She would have called me stupid but she
would have embraced me afterwards and told me everything would work out. She tried to warn me but
I didn’t listen. I wonder how she's doing. Did she give birth yet? How is her new marriage? Are they
treating her better now? Is she happy now? Ngqa promised to go and check on her yesterday when we
spoke on the phone. Yesterday! 24 hours ago that now seem like 24 months ago! I was happy and
giggling and sending silly voice notes just yesterday but look at me now. Sitting at a bus stop next to a
rubbish bin buzzing with insects waiting for a bus to Nowhere.

A kombi stops and the sliding door operator or is it conductor? Whatever he's called, he jumps out
excitedly. It's not like he was sitting anyway, he was literally hanging in there between the door and the
seats. “Via D Square”, he says. I shake my head and clutch my bag tighter to stop from breaking down
into tears. “I'm waiting for a friend”, I say with a feigned smile. “Sho sho”, he says and squeezes back
into the kombi, sliding the door behind him then him and the kombi are gone. Everything in my life
always leaves.

I keep staring into space trying to quieten the voices in my head. I wish Ngqa was here. In all of this the
only thing keeping me going is my thoughts of him. He will protect me and take care of me. He promised
to always love me and a promise is a credit! I know we were stupid but something beautiful is going to
come out of this. Right? Right? A baby will bring Ngqa and I closer together, right? Right? I look for
validation in my head but the voices shy away as if I’m just grasping at straws and back to wishful
thinking.

“Hey, what's a pretty girl like you doing at a bus stop?”, a voice shocks me back to the now. “Uum eeh,
I'm waiting for the bus”, I respond, quickly looking away to dry my tears with the back of my hand. “A
bus? A girl like you should never use public transport! Stand up let's see what kind of car suits you”, he
says. I stand then realise it probably was a joke. “Mmm. I can't decide between a Mini Cooper and an
Aston Martin. Something petite and cute like you”, he says.

Only now do I stop and take this stranger in. Black car with black windows, black T-shirt, black
spectacles. “My condolences”, I say. He looks puzzled as he asks “What for?”. He's from a funeral, isn't
he? What does he mean what for? He shakes his head and flashes me a smile that has me blushing,
“Jump in”, he says. “But… but you don't know where I'm going to”, I say. “It doesn't matter! Wherever
you are going is where I'm going to now. Jump in baby”, he says. Aren't strangers too kind! I jump into
his scented car and he's a very nice person. In 30 minutes we are in Jackie's neighbourhood. We have to
drive around as I don't know the address but eventually I spot the house.
The kind stranger tells me I look untainted and he would love to bless me. He says if I ever need a ride,
money or anything for that matter, he's my man. The conversation is a bit awkward with me smiling
unsurely at him. I'm not following what he's saying but he's been so kind to me so I won’t ask rude
questions like “How can one human bless another? Isn’t that the duty of higher powers?”. I smile some
more and thank him as I take the phone number he wrote behind a receipt.

*********

“Calm down, will you!”, Jackie rolls her eyes at me. I'm getting worked up because she's more interested
in hearing about the man who dropped me off than about my life and death situation! She makes me sit
and she's not helping really! “So Ngqa has been hitting it raw?”, she asks with her signature unfiltered
laugh. That sounds so wrong but I nod anyway and keep playing with my fingers. “He must really love
you! Ngqa would never do it without protection. Well except maybe when both of you are too drunk or
high or both, you know”, she says. I lift my eyes and stare at her. “What do you mean?”, I ask. “No,
nothing, it's just, well, you know, you know what? Never mind!”, she says and laughs awkwardly. I roll
my eyes. If I got a cent everytime she said never mind when it comes to Ngqa!

She makes me tell her everything and I realise it's getting uncomfortable when she asks me how?
When? How long? How many times? Did he do ABC? I change the topic then to Cass’s mum. “Castiel’s
mum is a mega bitch! You'd think the loony bin would have patched her up but I guess you can’t cure
crazy!”, she says. “What do you mean?”, I ask. “You don't know?”, she asks looking shocked by my
ignorance. “Never mind!”, she says. That damned never mind again! I get up and I'm ready to give her a
piece of my mind but I get cold feet and sit back down on the bed.

“What am I going to do Jackie?”, I ask, back to focusing on what's important. “Do you love Ngqa?”, she
asks. “I do, how could you even ask!”, I snap. “Easy Tiger! I’m just asking!”, she says and I feel bad. It’s
just, it’s as if she wanted me to say no. “I know Ngqa thinks the worst of me and will never forgive me
but trust me, if I could go back I would do it all over again!”, she says. I'm about to ask what she means
when she continues talking “See Lwezi, we are young and yes we are dumb and we do stupid things!
But that's the beauty of being young and pretty, right? You meet the love of your life and he takes you
to heaven so many times you don’t even remember your name. Then one day you both have to make a
decision and your views differ and just like that you are kicked out of heaven!”, she says and wipes away
a tear but quickly smiles brightly like it’s nothing. “Boys Lwezi! Those accursed creatures! You do things
together but they get away with everything and leave us stuck! In situations like this you have to be
selfish and think only about yourself!”, she says. “But Ngqa is not like other boys! He and I are in this
together!”, I say, defending the honour of my prince. “Are you? Where is he now? I can't see him here.
Does he also have a baby growing in his stomach?”, she says, looking around dramatically.
“Fine, tell me, what do you plan to do with this thing?”, she asks poking my stomach with her finger.
“What do you mean? What can I do? I have to let it grow until I give birth and hope Ngqa marries me for
the sake of the child at least”, I can’t believe I just said that. Marriage was never part of the package.
Ngqa didn't promise me that. “What the hell will you do with a baby Lwezi? You can't even comb your
own hair! What do you know about children when you are just a child yourself!”, she says. She has a
point but what option do I have? “How far along are you?”, she asks. She makes me take off my dress
and studies my stomach like she can see through! “You still flat flat, so maybe a month or two. That's
not even a baby yet, just a bunch of cells”, she says.

“Does Ngqa know yet?”, she asks and I shake my head no. “Great! Don't make the mistake of telling him
until you know exactly what you want to do”, she says. “But I have to tell him!”, I blurt out. It sounds
wrong that she would suggest I keep this from him! It’s his child too! “Look babe, you are innocent and
yea that's cute but it's also pitiful. You think the world is kind to the innocent? You think loving
Ngqabutho 101% and telling him everything is the way to go? Well Sis, tell you what, get a notebook let
me school you”, she says folding her arms and looking me straight in the eye. “Think what you may but
Ngqabutho Nxumalo is a prince and you are just a side dish he eats when he's here. He has a whole
wife! A princess for that matter and I'm sure by now you know that no matter how much he will confuse
you in bed, he'll still get up and remember he's a prince bound by some stupid ancient laws! So wake up
and smell the coffee. What you two have is a folklore and don't let the stories lie to you, there'll be no
happily ever after!”, she says, clapping her hands. I try to protest but she stops me by waving her index
finger at me.

“Besides, how do you know you love him? He's all you've ever had so who's to say you are not just
holding on to him because he's all you have? How do you know you love him? What if you just love the
way he loves you and not him per se?”, she stares at me. She's not laughing and I feel like I should
respond but I don’t know how. “All I'm saying is do you boo boo. Be selfish! Be a bitch! It's ok to be
called a bitch for taking care of yourself! You are in charge of your own happiness and don’t let anyone
take that away from you no matter how much you love them!”, she says.

She's confusing me and overwhelming me so I start crying. I can't help it. She gives me a hug and let's
me cry on her shoulder. “You can stay here with us babes, you'll be alright. I love you Lwezi because you
have a genuine heart and I know in you I have a true friend. But you also need to wake up and realise
the world owes you nothing! Stop being so dependent on Ngqa for a happiness I’m almost sure he can’t
give”, she says. She pats me and tells me how stupid Ngqa was for knocking me up. By the time I calm
down I know that whatever happened between her and Ngqa deeply wounded her and she hates him
with a deep passion.

“I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't wanna. But as someone who loves you I'll say take
it out. Take it out and you can continue going to school and forget about all this”, she says. I lift my
teary eyes at her. “How? Isn't it umm what's the word, illegal?”, I ask. “Illegal for who? Who has time
for Zimbabwe and it's holier-than-thou laws?”, she says and I giggle. The face she made when she said
that made me want to laugh. “But you have to promise not to tell Ngqabutho Lwezi! You can't tell
anyone ever! Because yes it is illegal”, she says. “But Cass’s mum knows. What will I say if it’s no longer
there?”, I say. “You'll call her bluff. It’s not like she saw it now, did she? Just say she's crazy when they
ask”, she says. She makes life look simple. I’m sure she can see the doubt in my eyes. “Remember you
are the innocent one who can never even think of such, so Ngqa won't buy it if the pregnancy test says
negative! Just say you had a stomach ache or something like that, better yet say you had period pains
and no one will even think pregnancy, yabo”, she says. I look down and play with my fingers, so many
thoughts racing through my head at once.

“Decision time babes, what's it gonna be? Are we taking it out or?”, she says. She holds my hands and
there's actually love and kindness in her eyes.

A BONUS INSERT, A RARE OCCASION 🙈🙈🙈

CHAPTER TWENTY

The worst decisions ever made are the uninformed ones! You just make a decision nje with no logic or
reason to back it up. It's like playing the guessing game, doing eeny meeny miny moe except with your
entire life on the line. If I make the wrong decision for the right reasons, does that make me a bad
person? And if I make a good decision for the wrong reasons does it make me a good person? Who
defines what a good decision is and what a bad one is? What's the criteria? But when all is said and
done, I have to decide even if it's the worst thing I ever do. The risk of a wrong decision is preferable to
not making a decision at all.

Jackie is waiting for me to say something. She says if I agree to take it out we'll do it tomorrow even. She
seems to know this like the back of her hand. She says we'll go to town in the morning, go to the
doctor’s surgery, get the pills and then we are sorted. She says because it's early on I won't even feel
much cramping. She describes the process so vividly and to the T but when I asks how she knows all this
she tells me that she Googled it! The joys of reading, something I might never enjoy.

That makes me sad because if I become a mother then I might as well forget about ever reading that
letter Ngqabutho sent me. I've read some of it but the longer words are still a bit too hard and some of
the words I'm not sure what they mean yet.
I know Jackie means well but it's like she needs me to make up my mind right now. “Do it for yourself
Lwezi. You can't let a boy ruin your life! Forget Ngqabutho for a minute and think only of yourself. Take
care of you. Take care of Lwezi above anyone else. Think what having a baby will do to you. You'll be
back in that village in no time playing second wife while Ngqabutho is at university with a hot girl. I'm
sure by now you know your man is a catch and he loves being caught!”, she says.

“But what will people say?”, I say. By people I meant Ngqabutho’s family. “People? Are you kidding me
right now? Abantu bazothini? Are you for real? Ok fine, let me tell you what people will say. They will
tell you to keep it because that's what they think is right. But when you are homeless, manless and
broke, carrying a hungry baby on your back, where will those people be? They might say ‘shame’ and
some will even pray for you but none of them will share the burden. So wake up Sis! There's too many
girls suffering out here all in the name of pleasing people, don't be part of the statistics. Do you”. I think
she's angry. I'm even scared to ask what ‘people’ did to her for her to feel so strongly about them.

“And ya, we must get you on the injection after this. Can't be dealing with such messes again!”, she says.
“I need a moment Jackie, if you don't mind”, I try not to sound rude. She can wait. I'm still weighing my
options here. If I do it, I get another chance at being a child, a chance at education and making
something of myself. I don't have a home or money or anything and should Ngqa turn his back on me
then I'm like a threaded nail on a plank - screwed! The ancestors might not be very happy with me but
who cares how they feel? They haven't cared about how I feel for a very long time.

If I keep it, it will be for Ngqabutho. So he doesn't hate me or leave me. I take it out for me or I keep it
for him. Who's more important between me and him? And if I lose him will that be so bad? Can I lose
someone I never really had?

I'll feel bad probably because women are supposed to behave a certain way and deal with things in a
certain way. But isn't that the exact thing I hated about Matombo. The oppression, the consistently
being made to feel like we were subhuman and had no right to make decisions that did not align with
the order of ancestors? So if I succumb to that same line of thought as the women back in my village,
doesn't that make me a hypocrite? I said I wanted liberation, I got liberation but yet I still want to
enslave my mind. Ngqa said I must stay true to myself and the true me never wanted to be caged by
societal expectations.

Jackie is sitting there quietly and me here quietly, arguing and debating with myself in my head. My
brain is thinking hard and for the first time I can see clearly. It's like the moment I removed Ngqa from
that ‘my beginning and ending’ place in my mind I started to think.

“I'll do it”, I say. My mind thought it and my lips are pronouncing it but my heart is closed up. It's as if
it's saying ‘leave me out of this one’. “Don't cry babes. It will be ok, I promise. Come here”, she cradles
me like a baby. “Are you sure?”, she asks and I nod. I'm not even crying. Between me and Ngqa, for the
first time I choose me.

If I was back at the village, I would have never even dreamt of it but I'm in the city now and it's a
different culture that's more liberating and less punishing. I was a woman there but I'm a child here and
children have no business having children! “It's the only way”, I repeat in my head. Maybe if I say it
enough times I'll end up believing it.

“Get into the blankets and get some rest. I'll go and watch TV, come join me when you wake up”, she
says. I thank her and she responds by giving me her hand to shake. “Best friends?”, she says. I shake
her hand anyway but I don't agree. I already have a best friend, her name is Nomasonto! Best implies
being better than all the others after all and that can only be one. She's just a good friend this one, we
not there yet.

I feel tired, like I walked 20 km or more. Maybe I did who knows. I will get some sleep so I can forget for
a moment, but sleep doesn't help when it's the soul that's tired. “Put this on”, she throws me pink
shorts and a matching top with a yawning cat on the front. “Thank you Jackie for everything”, I say as I
slip into the pyjamas. “Don't mention it. That's what friends are for”, she flashes me one her sweet
smiles.

“Can I call Ngqa with your phone. I need to talk to him”, I ask. Only him has the power to soothe me
right now. “No! Be your own person for once and leave that stuck up prince alone! Geez girl, you are so
dick matched it's not even funny!”, she rolls her eyes. Oh well I wanted to just hear his voice and let him
know I'm here. He will get worried if he can't get hold of me.

*************

I woke up refreshed and Jackie picked out what I must wear. I wanted a dress but she said that would
mean lifting it all up when doing the ultrasound. So we settled for a skirt and a top. Getting to town is a
breeze. I swear Jackie knows everyone! We didn't even pay the taxi fare!

As we walk into the surgery I keep waiting to get cold feet but no, my mind remains resolute. I'm doing
this. I just need to keep remembering that I'm doing this for me. We pass the patients sitting on the
metal chairs waiting for their chance to be cured. Jackie says a ‘hey girl’ to the receptionist and walks
right through without permission.
Looking at the doctor in that white coat and that thing around his neck, I know he's living the best
version of my future. I wish I too could be a doctor and look this clean! Is it education that refined him
this much or does he just look good naturally? He has a ring on his finger but that doesn't stop him from
saying ‘hey babe’ and kissing Jackie. They carry on talking like I'm not here for a while. Maybe she'll be
his second wife? But she has Sipho right? You know what, what doesn't concern me is none of my
business!

I swallow the pill the doctor gives me and Jackie says she'll keep the other four for me that I must take in
the evening. I don't know how she pays because we thank the doctor and head back home without any
exchange of cash. I just want to sleep and thankfully she says it's fine. I was worried she will want to
drag me from shop to shop in town.

We pass students in uniforms. I think they are late for school but they don't look fazed. Jackie is waiting
for her O’Level results so she isn't going to school. She says she doesn't care if she passed or not because
she's moving to South Africa and will do her Matric there. Again, like many people around me, we are
worlds apart and I don't relate.

I feel a bit dizzy and nauseous but she tells me to not dare throw up. “Keep that pill down babes
otherwise we just wanted our morning”, she says. She really is a nice girl. She has moments of sadness
sometimes where she looks lost in her own thoughts but she always bounces back and snaps out of that
world fast.

I take the second set of pills late afternoon and that's when it gets real. I feel like I swallowed bolts of
lightning. These are not cramps, these are earthquakes! And the pain, great spirits! I'm lying on the floor
clutching my stomach feeling like my body is breaking into pieces. But she said it will be just like period
pains! This here makes period pains look like a massage at a spa!

Jackie is panicking and gets on the phone with the doctor. Through my screams I can't hear what's she's
saying. “Swallow these, they will help with the pain. You'll be just fine, give it some time”, she says after
her phone call. I take the three blue pills and swallow them with half the water pouring onto the floor.

When the pain pills kick in only then do I feel like my body is mine again. The pain is there but it's not so
catastrophic anymore. I'm still afraid to move incase I wake it up again.

Sleep is the most beautiful thing. I get to visit places far far away. I get to walk the river again, sand in
between my toes and Sonto in my hand. I get to run around, chase after butterflies, laugh with the wind
and be free. I get to be alive again, without my burdens weighing down on my shoulders. I get to be the
me I used to know without growing up and its never ending pains.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The best decisions are the hardest and each decision is personal and should be tailor made. What the
next person will say is their problem entirely and has nothing to do with me. Like the good Professor,
Elikplim Nkrumah wrote, "If she doesn't pay my bills or hold any significance in my life then her opinion
is null and void". I feel like I grew up in one day. So much happened in a short space of time.

“Are you alright, Sweets?”, Jackie asks for the umpteenth time, feeling my brow with the back of her
hand and begging me to get up so I can sleep on the bed. It's been hours and she hasn't left my side,
occasionally calling her doctor friend and him assuring her that I'll live. I'm sure I have overdosed on
painkillers now but I need them to silence the pain.

Ngqa keeps flashing in and out of my mind but I'm doing my best to shut him out. I'm at a crossroad,
between guilt and relief. I feel guilty because I'm dreading what Ngqa will say. I have no doubt he will
hate me for this. But more than that, I'm relieved that I made this decision as soon as I did before I grew
attached or before my conscience talked me out of it. I know better now and this like many more before
is a lesson learnt. And Jackie was right, I don't care what people will say, they won't be there when I'm
back in the village being second wife to an absent husband and servant to Princess mud-face,
Ndoniyamanzi.

I let Jackie help me onto the bed and I lie there. It's not so painful anymore, it's just like period pains
now. “I feel bad”, she says. “For what?”, I ask in a whisper. “For this. What if you didn't want this and
my words made you do it? It's just Lwezi I couldn't have you going down that road. It's just…”, she
begins to say. “It's alright. Thank you actually. You know I was raised to conform, never allowed to make
up my mind in fear of pissing off someone. It's like for every decision I ever had to make I had to be
careful not to step on anyone's toes. Be it the ancestors or my brothers or other women or the whole
village at large!”, I have to stop and swallow because my throat is painfully dry. “With this I was afraid I
would piss off Ngqabutho. No matter what I do someone is going to be pissed, so how about I go ahead
and do what's best for me and let them get pissed anyway?”, I say.

She's looking at me with glassy eyes and holding on to my hand like it's her lifeline. “You did nothing
wrong Jackie. You told me what I had to hear. I've been nodding yes to Ngqa since I fell in love with him.
So bad I forgot about me. So from now on I choose me and if he wants a ‘yes my Lord’ girlfriend then I'm
not the one for him”, I say. She's smiling like a retard and I ask her why. “Who knew you could talk?
Look at you! I'm so proud of you girl. Us girls should stick together!”, she says still smiling like a retard.
“I didn't give you the phone to call Ngqa because you had made your decision and I wanted you to stick
to it and not be talked out of it by your boyfriend”, she says. I'm glad too, I had to make this decision on
my own! I don't know how I'll explain it to him but I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

“Do you wanna know why Ngqa and I don't like each other this much?”, Jackie's says. “I do. I really do
but right now I want to sleep. Think you can tell me all about it when I wake up?”, I ask with my eyes
already closed and my head resting on the soft pillow. “Sure thing babes. Get some rest”, she covers me
up and I hear the door close and footsteps walk away.

***********

I'm in the middle of a sweet dream when voices jolt me back to wakefulness. It takes a minute to
register where I am. “She's not here!”, I hear Jackie yelling. My first thought is...Ngqabutho! My first
feeling is...Guilt. I quickly jump out of bed and out of the room. I feel a stab of pain so I slow down but I
keep going. I get to the sitting room and there is Cass’s father in a suit looking down at Jackie. Jackie's
mouth drops and she looks at me the way Jesus looked at Judas Iscariot that night.

“Lwezi”, he says, ever so kind. “Uncle”, I respond looking down, suddenly feeling extremely naked in
these small shorts. “Dress up, get your stuff, let's go”, he says. I scurry back into the bedroom and do as
told, then I'm ready to go. I see Jackie standing by the door watching me with her arms folded across her
nicely shaped chest.

“My offer of you staying here with us still stands. You don't have to go back there”, she says. “Thanks
but I have to go. I owe it to the chief”, I say. I didn't unpack really so there wasn't much packing to do.
She closes the door and comes towards me. “You don't have to tell Ngqa if you don't want to. I won't
tell”, she says. So much kindness in a girl! “Thank you Jackie”, I give her a hug and promise to come back
if things get bad.

“Take those maternity pads with, you'll need them”, she says stuffing them in my bag. “And these
pyjamas too, they looked very cute on you”, she stuffs them in my bag too. She lets me go to Uncle
alone as she says “I can't stand those people! Only Castiel is human in that family!”.

The drive is uncomfortable and silent. I wish uncle would say something. Anything. But he drives in
silence, the only sound being that of other cars. Not even music! The silence is too loud, I have to silence
it.
“Please, you can't take me back home. She's very unkind”, I beg in a whisper. “Yes”, he says. Not so
helpful but ok. Another long stretch of silence fills the car. “I'm taking you back to Matombo. When my
wife called to say that she put you out, I had to find you. You are under my care and if anything
happened to you I would have been expected to explain!”, he says, still kindly and still looking ahead.

“I'm sorry”, I say, not quite sure what it is exactly I'm sorry for. “I walked out of an important meeting
and rushed home. I looked everywhere in your room for clues then I found your phone. I didn't even
know you had a phone!”, he says. Maybe it's a Nxumalo thing but he has his emotions under control. I
can't tell whether he's disappointed or angry. He just sounds ok and that's not nice.

“How did you find me?”, I ask. “I went to Castiel and he said I would find you at that girl's house! Why
on earth are you kids still friends with that girl?”, he says, almost snapping but quickly pulling his voice
together. “How's Cass?”, the thought of him just brightened my mood. “He's doing well. He should be
home next week. He will be going off to University with Ngqa in two weeks”, he says. I already know
that about Ngqa but I thought since Cass was not there he would take a gap year or something. I want to
ask what's wrong with him but I decide against it. I'll ask him in person the next time I see him, if I ever
see him.

“So Lwezi. Call it invasion of privacy or whatever but I had to listen to the voice notes between you and
Ngqa to try and figure out where you could be”, he says. I cringe as he says that and slide down the seat
wishing to get under it and hide. I feel so violated and exposed. Those messages were private and not
so innocent.

“Under my roof? You and Ngqabutho! In my house!”, he says, anger gently seeping through the
calmness of his voice. "You know I suspected it. I could tell by the way he looked at you and the way you
blushed around him but I didn't give it much thought. I would be lying if I said I'm not disappointed, in
you especially! I know my nephew but you, you let me down”, he says. I look down, not sure if
apologising would be appropriate. “Anyway, on the bright side, I get to take a trip to that village and see
my brother! Good times”, he says flashing me an obviously fake smile. Great. If he gets to benefit from
my predicament then yay!

“Your phone is in the pigeon hole there”, he points. I take it out and I'm glad the earphones are still
attached to it. “You can recline your seat and listen to music, it's alright, I'm used to Cass doing it”, he
says. Phew! Thank goodness! I wanted to do that but it seemed rude.
Nicki Minaj comes into my ears, and I've never been so grateful for education no matter how little.
Learning has been hard but understanding spoken English has been easier to grasp than writing it. I'm
getting there though and that's one dream I'm willing to fight for to the death.

I'm not sure who this Marilyn Monroe that Nicki Minaj is singing about is but I know I understand how
she felt because that's exactly how I feel right now. I made a selfish decision and I'm beginning to feel
like this is the end of the road for Ngqa and I. Without him in my life I stand to lose the Chief and his
brother and Castiel. All the family I now had I risk losing. But if that's the price to pay then so be it. I'm
choosing me over everyone.

I lip sync to the song with tears flowing out of my closed eyes and down the side of my face.

“I can be selfish

Yeah, so impatient

Sometimes I feel like Marilyn Monroe

I’m insecure, yeah I make mistakes

Sometimes I feel like I’m at the end of the road”

I'm a confused soul walking the earth. One moment I'm the happiest girl in the whole world and the
next that same world comes crumbling down, burying me beneath its soil. I swear this song was written
by my doppelganger!

“I can get low, I can get low

Don’t know which way is up

Yeah I can get high, I can get high

Like I could never come down”.

Maybe my mind is my biggest curse or maybe it's a blessing. I think it's both. I did what I had to and if
Ngqabutho cannot understand that then maybe being without him is what I need. I don't know the
definition of love but when I was younger I watched my mother and father share it. It's saying “It's ok
darling” when the other spent all his salary at a Beer Hall. It's saying “That's in the past my beautiful
wife, don't mind what those women say”. It's being there for the other when they have messed up and
are down and out and most difficult to love. When looking at them hurts you and you feel like strangling
them to death but you open your mouth and say “I love you, now take my hand, let's walk through
this”. That's the kind of love I desire, the kind my parents shared and the kind mama spoke of at her
dying hour. If Ngqa won't give me that then he's not my prince, I might need to kiss more frogs.

“Call it a curse

Or just call me blessed

If you can’t handle my worst

You ain’t getting my best

Is this how Marilyn Monroe felt?

Must be how Marilyn Monroe felt”.

Like mama said, nothing ever lasts. The leaves on trees fall in the Autumn, the brightness and heat of
Summer eventually cool down and fade away, the cold breeze of Winter warms up and the snow melts,
the scent of flowers in Spring goes away and is forgotten. If the four seasons cannot last forever why
would I think my borrowed happiness would? Sooner or later, everything goes away, especially the good
things. All I'm hoping for when he leaves is that he doesn't take away too much of me with him.

“It’s like all the good things

They fall apart like, like Marilyn Monroe

Truth is we mess up till we get it right

I don’t wanna end up losing my soul”.

As the song plays on, Ngqa is heavy on my mind. If he loves me because I'm perfect and untainted,
whatever they call me, then his heart is in the wrong place. Deep down I pray he doesn't leave me
because I may not be royalty but I'm worth my weight in gold.

“Take me or leave me

I’ll never be perfect

Believe me, I’m worth it

So take me or leave me!”

By the time the song replays for the fourth time I'm beginning to feel sorry for Marilyn Monroe
wherever she is.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

I don't know what's hardest; making a difficult decision, standing by your decision or defending your
decision. Or maybe all of the above? But the tougherer the decision the more rewarding it is. I might be
lying to myself but if the truth will hurt me then maybe this lie is what I need.

But maybe if I keep my thoughts locked away and my lips shut, they won't know what I did! There's a
little hope to hold on to! Doubt sweeps over me as soon as I reach for that hope, reminding me that
nothing stays hidden forever.

If I look in the mirror long enough I'm sure I'll see a deck of playing cards looking back at me. I'm an ACE
of DIAMONDS in the CLUB of broken HEARTS. Although I love calling a SPADE a spade, in the huts of
KINGS and QUEENS I'm nothing but a JOKER and my word holds no value. It's a cold cold world when
you have to turn to the graves to look for a shoulder to lean on.

I manage to doze off and I'm woken up hours later when we are at the chief’s home. It's getting dark
outside and being back here is making my heart bleed. I failed. I see workers and messengers but I don't
see Ngqa, the chief or the princess. Maybe it's better that way. I'm not yet ready and my stomach is
killing me.

There's a huge fire blazing in front of the kitchen with big three legged pots on it. I once asked why they
use such big pots and Ngqa said “To rule a village means to feed a village”. He said if anyone didn't have
food they came to the chief and they would get a portion. Why didn't anyone tell me that back when I
was begging my brothers for food every week?

“We're here now. Come”, uncle says opening the door for me. I wake up and fear suddenly floods my
eyes. He's avoiding eye contact with me but it's better that way. I must look terrified with my eyes
popped because he takes my hand and says, “Sometimes there is a reason, sometimes there isn't. But
what is done is done, no point crying over spilt milk”. I grab my bag on my feet and take his hand. He's
probably thinking of the pregnancy but I'm thinking of its absence.

I'm a zombie as I follow him following the messenger to a hut at the end of the homestead. All this is
starting to feel like a dream or should I say a nightmare? For once I miss my home, I was alone there
and I wouldn't have had to answer to anyone.
In the hut there's the chief, his two younger brothers, Ngqabutho and a sangoma (seer). They are all
sitting on chairs and the woman is sitting on the floor. The lights are on and I see Ngqa’s eyes brighten
as I walk in. I quickly cast mine down and balance with the wall till I find my way down to the floor.
Couldn't this wait till tomorrow morning?

The brothers have a reunion. They all share a surname so is it necessary to keep praising each other and
making up clan names as they go? Ngqa’s face is stoic and his eyes are fixed on me. I can't see them but I
feel them boring right into my soul. I fidget until I find a position where I can't feel the pain and I hold it
right there.

The chief is the first to speak and he says we are lucky his brothers were visiting when he got the news
so they gathered and have been waiting all afternoon. He greets me politely and apologises for
interrupting my studies with this meeting. He asks about school and how I'm finding the city. I'm not
really in chit chatting mode so I give one word answers and force a smile as I go.

“So brothers, son, mama and Lwezi, I suppose you are all aware why we are gathered here. Keep your
hearts pure, your thoughts indifferent, your judgements fair and your emotions dead. What we will
discuss here shall remain here. We will abide by the laws of idale (gathering of elders) and may the
wrath of the ancestors never depart from him who breaks even a single law. We may begin”, the chief
says. “Yes my chief”, I join in. His voice is so commanding it's hard not to agree with him.

“We are aware what our children have been accused of. We have to deal with such matters before the
world starts talking! You know in this village azilali phansi zesaba amazolo (news spreads fast)”, he says
with his signature laugh. I catch his eye and I think he nods or maybe I imagined it. He's still so kind!

The four brothers talk and talk and talk. The chief has to explain to them who exactly I am. Only when
he mentions my mother's name do they go “ooohh!”. Cass’s father already knew who I am from the look
of things. I feel like they know something about umama from the way they say “That explains your soft
spot for her Nqobizitha (chief)!”. I could puzzle over that but I have too much on my mind already.

They are talking about me and not to me. Then they start biting off Ngqabutho’s head and calling him
irresponsible, childish, spoilt and all sorts. Except the great chief of course, who says “Leave the boy
alone. Boys will be boys”. Cass’s father is the angriest and it's like he's more angry that we did it in his
house more than that we did it in the first place. I guess he left his calmness in the city because he's
threatening to beat Ngqa black and blue.
“Your son is a loose canon brother and he'll bring disgrace to this family! He can't be the next chief with
a brain like this. He's stupid and continuously makes stupid decisions. How many messes of his are we
going to clean up before he grows up and becomes a man”, Cass’s dad says. “That's enough brother.
You will not say any more about Ngqabutho!”, the chief says sternly. “It's because you keep protecting
him that's why he will never grow up! You need to get his head checked!”, Cass’s dad says. “Get his head
checked like your son eeh?”, the chief says.

Cass’s dad stands and one of the unnamed brothers stands too. “See, this is the reason I never set foot
in this village! You, your people, everything here. Stay here with your son and watch him run your so
called Kingdom into the ground”, he says. “It's alright brother, run, go back to your fancy suburb and
pretend like this isn't where you belong! Pretend like we are suddenly all beneath you! You know none
of those institutions will ever heal Castiel! He must come here and journey to the mountains and
converse with his ancestors. Only then will he heal”, the chief says. “Never! My son will not do these
ancient rituals of yours. He's fine! He'll be fine!”, uncle yells. “Keep saying he's fine until we lower him
into the ground. The ancestors won't keep calling for him, one day they will demand him then they will
take him away! You should bring that boy home and soon!”, the chief says.

I'm not sure but I think this has nothing to do with me. They yell some more and Cass’s dad storms out.
Ngqa goes after him but his father stops him when he gets to the door. “Sit Ngqabutho Nxumalo! We
are in this mess because of you. So sit down”. Poor Ngqa returns to his seat. His father always humbles
him shame.

Moments later I hear the car drive off. I have no clue what just happened!

“Where were we?”, the chief clears his voice, like nothing just happened! “Right! Lwezi don't take
offence to this but it's cultural that we confirm that the child is of our blood before we accept any
responsibility. Ngqabutho has already confessed that he's been sneaking around with you but as a
formality I'll ask him again in your presence”, he says. I nod, my eyes still drawing circles on the floor.

“Nkosana, do you know this girl?”, he asks. “Yebo Nkosi (Yes chief)”, Ngqa says. His voice sends chills
down my spine. It's the first time I've heard him speak. I feel tears filling my eyes. “Is the child yours?”,
he asks. “Yebo Nkosi”, Ngqa says. “So you mean to tell me that you've been sleeping with her this
whole time yet you still won't touch your own wife? The poor girl had cried and begged and we have
begged you too Nkosana but you won't touch her. What makes this peasant so special?”, one of his
uncles ask. “She's my chosen one”, Ngqa says and those tears that were filling my eyes fall down and
form a small puddle on the floor. “This is not the time to deal with that, brothers”, the chief says.
He hands over to the sangoma who smiles at me toothlessly and asks me to move closer. “Spit in here”,
she says. I spit into the bowl full of herbs and watch her set it alight. “Now call on your grandmothers
for me so they can show me the truth”, she says. To the best of my ability I recite my clan names with a
shaking voice. She mixes her concoctions and says something inaudible. We all wait in silence as she
goes on and on inaudibly, throwing bones, pushing bones around with a stick, blowing into the bowl
and the whole nine yards.

When she's done she looks at me with unblinking eyes and I look back at her begging her not to say
anything. I will be the one to speak. Ngqa can't find out like this. “And?”, one of the uncles asks.
“There's no child here. She's not pregnant”, she says. I'm still holding my breath and crossing my
fingers, toes and everything hoping she doesn't say anymore. I hear the chief sigh in relief and Ngqa say
a hushed “What?”.

“Everyone please leave, I will talk to her alone”, the sangoma says. Maybe I should aspire to be a
sangoma! She's one of the few people that can tell the chief what to do. The chief leaves first, then his
brothers follow. “Please come to my hut after this baby”, Ngqa whispers and walks out too, closing the
door behind him. Now it's just me and the sangoma.

“I know what you did”, she says looking me straight in the eye. “I...I...I…”, I stutter terribly. I can't find
the words. “The shedding of innocent blood comes with consequences but the shedding of royal blood
arouses the wrath of the ancestors, the magnitude of which you cannot phathom”, she says looking at
me through eyes that don't seem like her own. I feel a cold front chill my bones. No one has ever been
known to win a battle with forces from beyond.

“Your mother’s knees are bruised from kneeling in front of the Nxumalos pleading your case. A cleansing
ritual should be done very soon to appease their raging spirits. Tomorrow night the full moon rises,
come to my compound and we shall channel its powers to reach out to your ancestors. Only them can
save you now”, she says. I'm shivering on the spot, feeling like any moment now I'll be struck down by
lightning and turned to ash.

“Do they know?”, I ask in a pitiful whisper. “Nqobizitha has the gift and he might have his suspicions. He
knew you were pregnant. He felt it but his gift is not strong and often he misunderstands
communications”, she says. “What will they do to me if they find out”, I ask. “Who's to say! Take this, it
will cloak you and the truth will only be known by you and whoever else your mouth confesses it to”,
she says, passing me something that looks like a bone or a stone, I'm not certain.
“Thank you”, I say, my voice trembling. “Thank your mother”, she says. “Mama?”, is all I can muster.
“She tried to warn you, she showed you the blood bath that would follow if you didn't change your path.
She's looking after you the best way she can but she needs you to open your eyes and see”, she says.

She gives me a lecture on holistic healing. “We are all ghosts, having fragments of those who lived
before us within us. We live and walk with them, so when our souls break they cry out and the ripple
effect surpasses your understanding”, she says. I pretend to understand her but what she just said
doesn't make sense to me at all. “Tomorrow evening you'll be restored”, she adds. When I tell her I
don't have anything, livestock or monetary, to pay her with she says “Royal blood was spilt and if the
ritual is not done, many will squirm”. I wish she could stop speaking in parables but I know better than
to ask that of her.

"Remember, when the grandmothers speak, the earth will be healed”, she says. “What do you mean?”, I
ask, puzzled. She shrugs her shoulders and bids me farewell. When the grandmothers speak, the earth
will be healed.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Loving someone means sheltering them from pain and protecting their heart from the wickedness and
the snares of betrayal. It means considering their feelings and doing your utmost to keep their faces
illuminated by the rays of happiness. It also means telling them the truth and trusting them to accept it
and still love you at the end of the day. But what if the truth will hurt more than lies? What if the truth
would undo your dreams at the snap of a finger, just like that? What if lies are what's necessary to keep
the fire blazing? What then does a girl do? Loving someone means sheltering them and making them
happy. So how bad exactly is a lie that comes from a good place? Maybe stepping onto that thin line
between lies and truths is the only way. That thin line is the region of silence where nothing is said and
the truth remains unspoken. Withholding the truth is not lying and silence is golden after all.

I'm trying to selectively remember the words of the sangoma. She said some dark things, jargon yes but
dark, bone chilling dark. But she spoke of healing and appeasing the ancestors. I hold on to just that
because sometimes hope is all we need to keep going. I should be grateful to mama for fighting my
battles in the other realm but I can't. She let me down and for that I'm angry. She could have taught me
all these woman things when she was alive, she could have better prepared me for a life without her
and even her visits in my dreams, she could have been clearer not leave me guessing every time. Plus I
think she had secrets, I just pray those secrets don't come back to bite me. I know how curses spill over
from generation to generation and I might be selfish but I'm not ready to take the cross for her sins, I
have enough of my burdens weighing me down.
My hands shake as my knuckles attempt to knock on Ngqa’s door. The trembling took away the impact
and my hand barely grazes the door. No knocking sound is made. I give up, try the door and it's unlocked
so I step in and bolt it behind me. It feels like forever since I knelt on that floor, stood against that wall
and slept on that bed. I remember I didn't want to leave because it was so soft and comfy.

As memory floods my brain, I feel like crying. It's just been a few months but I swear it feels like a
decade has passed. I could cry and Ngqa wouldn't fault me for it but tears never solved anything.
Sometimes they are best reserved for the pillows late at night when the rest of the world is sleeping.

From the way he jumps up it's obvious he's been waiting for me. He hugs me and I let out a growl as my
stomach reminds me of its pains. “You alright?”, Ngqa asks looking into my eyes. I mean to nod yes but I
shake my head no instead. Sometimes I feel like this boy has super powers that force me to tell the
truth, nothing but the whole truth. The same truth that could be my undoing.

He's wearing ripped jeans and a sweater. I found out the hard way that they were tattered intentionally.
They have a fancy name, distressed denim, but we all know you could call a donkey a unicorn but it still
won't fart rainbows. So ya, call them what they may but those jeans are torn and they know it! It took
me a while to understand why anyone would buy torn clothes. That's just inviting poverty into your life
nje. But I get it now, probably because Ngqa makes them look so good.

I got lost in my thoughts there staring at him and him staring back wondering why I'm staring at him like
that. If I explained to him he wouldn't understand so I'll leave it alone. “You look good”, I say,
attempting to break the awkward silence my staring has created. “You too lil mama”, he says giving me
another hug.

We get over the small talk and I sit on the bed as he pulls a chair and sits in between my knees. I don't
know what I thought he would say but giving me sorries was not even on the list. “I'm sorry baby. I'm so
sorry for all this. They shouldn't have humiliated you like that! It's my fault!”, he says. “And Cass’s mum
was wrong for throwing you out. I know she gets like that sometimes but still, how could she! She's
always ruining my life!”, he says. That's strange because Cass’s mother loves Ngqabutho and treats him
like a small child. Cass even says his mother loves Ngqa more than him. She adores him, even a blind
man can see it.

“But I'm here now baby, I'll take care of you. We'll make a plan”, he says. I smile at him. He's cute. He's
just 20 still and going to University so how exactly will he take care of me? “I'm sorry baby, it's just that
when they said you are pregnant I thought oh shit and I owned up, you know. I tried calling you but I
couldn't reach you. I shouldn't have agreed before asking if you did a pregnancy test or something, you
know. I should have spoken to you first instead of embarrassing you like that. I'm so sorry my love”, he
says clasping my hands. I look down wondering if I should tell him the truth or not.

I realise that this might be the last time I ever speak to Ngqa because when the truth comes out my
heart will be left broken on the floor and he'll be gone. So while I still can I should ask him. I might be off
topic but I need to know. “Why do you hate Jackie so much?”. He looks at me with a ‘where did that
come from’ look then he looks down and his hold on my hands loosens. “What?...I don't. Who said I
hate her?”, he says, looking down. “Come on Ngqa”, I say. “It's a long story baby and I don't wanna talk
about it right now”, he says. “Ok, at least tell me this. Was she something to you before you met me?”, I
ask. “Yes”, he says, still looking down. My eyes pop open in disbelief. I'd hope for a resounding no. So
you mean to tell me that that girl who loves me so much was sleeping with the same boy as me? She
came before me? I don't know if I'm angry or confused. I always knew Ngqa wasn't a virgin when he got
with me but the thought of him with Jackie is making my bile rise.

“Remember when I first met you I told you about this good girl I'd fallen in love with in the city?”, he
says. Yes I remember. “Jackie was that girl. She was everything to me and I loved that girl with my
whole heart. There's nothing I wouldn't have done for her. We were tight, you know”, he says. “Then
one stupid night we got drunk, smoked some mbanje (marijuana) then things happened and she got
pregnant. She took the morning after pill but it didn't work!”, he says. “Oh so you slept with her
once?”, I ask. I'm sure I can forgive once. He keeps looking down, playing with his fingers. “No of course
not! She was my girl for a long time so obviously we loved each other countless times. But that night we
didn't use protection”, he says. I listen silently, many thoughts running through my head and Jackie’s
voice echoing in my mind, making me angry. We often ask for truths but when they are given to us we
can't handle them.

“I told her I'd take care of her. I promised to give up my claim to the throne if that's what it took. I was
willing to marry her even if that's what it would have come down to. But then my family got involved
and it all got messed up. I was overseas and when I came back it was too late. She hated me and I hated
her and we never really forgave each other. Although I still don't know why she was so angry at me!
What did I do? It was all her fault!”, he snaps. He's worked himself into a fit and he wipes a wayward
tear with the back of his hand.

“Even after that I wanted her. I wanted to try again but she hated me and she punished me for the loss.
Then she changed. The men just wouldn't stop. I watched my sweet girl turn into someone I didn't
recognise and I knew it was over and done. So I gave up my rebellion and accepted my claim to the
throne. That's when I came down here and walked the path to chiefhood”, he says and wipes away
another tear.
System overload. That's a lot and I have so many questions. If they loved each other that much why
would they pretend like nothing ever existed between them? They do that so well, I sense the animosity
between them but never in my wildest imaginations would I have thought they had such a history! I'm
so overwhelmed. “If only she had waited for me, we would have worked something out. I know she
felt like she had no other choice and I wasn't there but still, she could have waited for me. I would have
been there for her and we would have made a decision together”, he says.

Oh great spirits! He loves her still. It's loud and clear in his voice. I feel hurt replace the guilt and anger
that have been growing inside me. I was just a rebound! That's a hard pill to swallow. He may love me
yes but will he ever love me as much as he did her? He's never promised me anything yet he was ready
to give up the throne for Jackie. Why didn't anyone tell me? Why would they let me be friends with her?
And Jackie why is she so nice to me then? Is it genuine or she's on the ‘keep your enemies closer’ tip?

“But I thought you said you broke up with the girl in the city because you had to assume your royal
duties and therefore couldn't be with her anymore. Did you lie Ngqa?”, I ask, feeling my heart quiver,
threatening to shatter. “I didn't lie. That was the ultimate reason after things piled up. We grew further
and further apart and I couldn't be with her anymore. I decided then I would come down and be the
prince I'm expected to be. She hated me for that too!”, he says. Does every boy sound like this when he
speaks of someone he once loved? His voice is laced with longing and fragments of a love that ended
but never left. I may be wrong and spirits I pray I'm wrong.

I need positivity urgently before I break down and wail. I look at this from the plus side. Maybe he could
marry the both of us. I think we would make good wives to him. That sounds like a great idea but I feel
betrayed by Jackie so I sort of kind of dislike her quite intensely right now. That snake! She slithered her
way into my heart and I wasted a lot of heartbeats loving her and believing her while she lied to me. I
think this is jealousy I'm feeling. Ngqa does a lot of forbidden things to me and to think she also got to
enjoy the pleasures he so generously gives is making my heart pound. I can't seem to trust anyone
around me. Only Sonto was my true friend.

I want to ask Ngqa if Jackie had an abortion or a miscarriage but I don't want to press the dagger
piercing his heart any deeper. I hate Jackie yes but I love him. For some reason I can't explain, I'm
directing all my anger towards Jackie and looking at Ngqa as a victim. I can't afford to unlove him. I
wouldn't know where to begin.

“Ngqa”, I take his hands. “Yes baby”, he says looking up at me with red eyes. “Do you want a baby?”, I
ask. That's not what I meant to say but let's go with that. “What? No. Why? You want a baby?”, he looks
hella shocked. “No I don't. But we've been doing the you know what, so what if I got pregnant?”, I ask.
“If you fell pregnant I would have taken responsibility, obviously. My family is more than capable of
taking care of you, besides my father adores you", he says. “But no man, no way could you have fallen
pregnant!”, he says. “What?”, I look at him. He sounds so sure but I know the truth. “I know your cycle
babe. I have the Period Tracker App on my phone so when you're ovulating I make sure we don't do it”,
he says. So he's been following my period around month after month?

“Do you do that with your precious princess as well?”, I ask without meaning to. “Someone is jealous”,
he flashes me that smile that makes most of my nos turn into yeses. “No. I've never touched her! I don't
want her. We broke up on our wedding night. I keep telling father and my uncles to take her back to her
parents but they are still keeping her here”, he says. That sounds cruel and if he wasn't my boyfriend I
would have thought him evil. His uncle mentioned it earlier but I hadn't believed it.

I just need to know for sure before I make my final decision. To tell or not to tell. “Ngqa do you want a
baby?”, I ask looking him in the eye. “You already asked me that my princess. No I don't want a baby,
we are too young to be parents!”, he says. “Are you sure?”, I ask. “Yes. If I wanted a baby we would
have a baby by now”, he says with that laugh that got me the first time.

Our talk derails further and further away from the topic. The atmosphere is too tense and I'm trying to
laugh at a joke he made but the lips just won't part. I tell him I've been having stomach problems lately
and I'm in pain. He promises to take me back to the city to see a doctor.

A knock comes on the door and the chief's voice says “Ngqabutho open the door”. I know I must hide
but the pain in my stomach won't let me crawl under the bed. I know it's lousy but I walk and stand
behind the door and hope Ngqa can stop him from coming in. But when have the ancestors ever
favoured me?

The chief walks right in and as the door closes behind him, I'm left staring at him. I begin my descent, so
I can fall on my knees and when he stops me with a hand signal, I'm relieved. He makes us sit on the
bed and stands in front of us looking unamused.

“What games are you kids playing?”, he asks. At hearing his tone I immediately decide I will leave the
talking to Ngqa. “Ngqa? You know better than to get this girl pregnant! I paid a fortune to that fancy
school of yours and you are telling me they didn't teach you about prevention? And as intelligent as you
are you choose to think with the wrong head everytime? Should I now buy you condoms and force you
to use them?”, he says. Even in his emotionlessness, I can tell he's not pleased. We remain dead silent.
“Oh so I'm talking alone? Look at me young man when I'm talking to you!”. From the corner of my eye I
see Ngqabutho’s head lift up.
“What's your problem Ngqabutho? Why would you put me through this again? Tell me”, the chief says.
“I deeply apologise father. I just, I love her and I wasn't thinking right. I don't want Ndoniyamanzi, I
want Lwezi”, he says. The chief sighs. “So deep down you think if you get her pregnant the laws will
suddenly change for you? That we will send your wife back and you take this girl and you come here and
live happily ever after? You think life is that simple?”, he says. “No father, getting her pregnant was
never my intention and I'm glad she's not pregnant”, Ngqa says. “I'm not stupid Ngqa, don't think the
white in my hair is flour. It's aging! And with that comes wisdom and experience!”, the chief says.
“Look. I knew you loved the girl that's why I let her stay with you. I knew you youngsters would be
sneaking around but I trusted that you would know better and would make sure we do the end up in a
situation like this”, he says.

“When did you become this irresponsible? If you get her pregnant will you marry her and dump her
here?”. It's like he doesn't see me. I'm forgotten, I might as well be invisible. “Come on Ngqabutho.
They want to see you fail, they want to see your downfall, they want to laugh at you when you hit rock
bottom. Don't give them the satisfaction, please”, he says, his tone toned down to almost begging.

Sitting here is beginning to feel awkward. But when I think it can't get any worse, Ngqa starts crying! He
hangs his head and buries his face in his palms. I'm not sure why he's crying but I feel my own tears
coming. I put my hand around him and rest my head on his shoulder. I must have lost my respect along
the way because this, touching him like this in front of his father is beyond disrespectful.

Ok now I have seen it all! The chief kneels in front of Ngqa and forces his hands away from his face. I
watch as he wipes off his son’s tears and grips him by the arms. He stays there silently studying Ngqa’s
face. I might as well be one of the particles in the air, I don't quite exist in this space. I'm completely
forgotten.

“Ngqabutho, I know you didn't have a mother to teach you some things I couldn't but I tried my best
with you. I gave you everything. Freedom, support, money, whatever you wanted I gave you. Even when
you made mistakes, especially when you made mistakes, I was there to pick you up, wasn't I? You are
my son, the prince of Matombo, my treasure”, he says. “Remember when you were 10 and had chicken
pox? You thought you were turning into an animal. I sat right here all night looking after you and
reassuring you that you would still be human the next day. We laughed about that for many years”, the
chief says with a little laugh. My heart smiles when I hear Ngqa chuckling.

“You are my son, even if it takes my last piece of gold, I will make it a point that you are happy and living
the best version of your life. If she makes you happy you know all you have to do is say the word and I'll
find a way”. His voice is laced with a pain I can't seem to place. I don't even understand where all this is
coming from.
He stands up and heads for the door. “As for tonight I don't know where Lwezi will sleep. But I'm sure
you'll make a plan. And please get this girl of yours on something, anything!”, he says and walks out.

Ngqa is in no talking mood. He helps me lie down, lifts up my top and kisses my stomach. I think it's his
way of telling me to get better. The gesture has tears filling my eyes because I know and he doesn't. He
changes and lies down next to me, running a hand through the tangles of my hair as he let's me fit my
body into his. His other arm wraps around me, resting gently on my stomach. “Goodnight my pretty
one. You have my heart”, he says, kissing my hair. I exhale deeply and snuggle closer.

This secret of mine I will take to my grave.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Life is never black and white. There’s no distinct right or wrong, it’s more of a confused grey mess with
each person trying to assert their idea of what’s right as the ultimate right. We are all torn in between,
treading that thin line between ‘what’s best for me’ and ‘what does society say I should do’. We
prescribe what’s right and support it with dogmas and doctrines so our souls can find some form of
peace, when all we are doing is inheriting someone else’s right as the right. We all never seem to agree
but that’s alright because if we all see eye to eye, the whole world would be grey. ‘I guess we got to
agree to disagree even if we're singing the same song’.

Lately, I live a lot inside my head, questioning my decisions, doubting myself, scared of the future,
terrified of consequences. It’s a pitiful mess in this mind of mine and even tears wouldn’t be salty
enough to sterilise the thoughts. Life is never black and white and that’s perfect because a balance of
black and white is necessary to keep life alive. There’s enough goodness in the world so much that a
little evil is needed to keep things at equilibrium. To be whole, two opposing halves must exist. Night
and day, moonlight and sunshine, love and hate, darkness and light, good and bad, fire and water. See?
Balance. Truth and lies. There’s enough truth floating about in the world, my lie may be what’s needed
to tip the scales and restore that balance. Yin and Yang.

It must be in the early hours of the morning because I’m sure I heard the cocks crowing in my sleep. I
untangle myself from Ngqa’s arm and step out of bed. I need to make it out of the chief’s home before
anyone sees me. I’m sure everyone knows I’m around but that doesn’t mean I must walk around like I
have shares in this home. Ngqa is still sleeping, snoring softly and his head resting on the white pillow. I
take a second to study him and just by looking at his face, I’m reminded why I’m so whooped. I used to
sneak in and out of this home so I find my way out easily. I need to see Sonto as soon as yesterday. How
I’ve missed my best friend!

I kick the dew off the grass as I walk looking at this village that used to be home. Nothing has changed
here. Women still have to wake up at dawn and make trips to the river while the men sleep like kings.
The few women I cross paths with are shocked to see me and ask where I’ve been these past months.
For fun I tell each one a different story. “I’m married to a man in the next village and I’m only back to
make sure mama’s grave still lies undisturbed”, I say to the first two I meet. “I’m working in the kitchens
in the city and studying part time”, I tell the next woman I bump into. “I was kidnapped by the chief of a
far away village and forced to marry his son so I’m a princess now”, I spin a different tune to three
women I never really liked. Now let them meet at the river and debate about me! They were going to
gossip about me anyway so how about I make it more interesting for them?

I make it to Sonto’s home and stand outside waiting for the women to come out with their buckets. I
could announce my presence but I’m in no mood to shout so I’ll wait right here. I’m beginning to think
that maybe I’m late and they already went to the river when I hear loud chattering. These women talk
so loud! My face lights up as I see a heavily pregnant Sonto emerge with a bucket in her hand. I forget
my manners and run into the home and jump on her. My hug is wasted as I can’t reach past her belly.
She looks five years older and there’s hardly any life left on her face. It’s like she has given up on life.

I take her bucket in one hand and her hand in my other as we follow her sister wife towards the gate.
“Look at you! The city has worked miracles on you. You look gorgeous”, she says. I giggle and brush off
the compliment. By the time we make it to the river I’ve told her stories of the city and how I’m so lost
in that world. I make it seem like it’s nothing fancy and the stories are just exaggerated. The city is a
beautiful place and things are easier there but I downplay it so my friend doesn’t feel like she’s missed
out on life. She already looks hopeless and I won’t be the one to add to her grief. I start with the good
things first, Castiel, the beauty of Cass’s home, the cars, the tarred roads, the many cars, the endless
supply of food and everything good. Even downplayed, the city sounds like heaven. “At least one of us
made it out of this hellhole”, she says with a tired smile. I’m not sure if she’s genuinely happy for me or
not.

Her new husband is ‘alright’ she says but I can tell she has not yet learned to love him. I thought they
would at least wait till she gave birth before Bongani’s brother inherited her but I obviously thought
wrong. Anyway, they say brothers are as good as the same person so there’s that for consolation.
Tradition and culture have no time to spare anyone’s feelings. You just do as you are told or else
ancestors get involved then it all becomes a warzone because the dead seem to enjoy inflicting pain on
the living. Case study: the looming war between me and the Nxumalo ancestors.
“Half the time I want to die Lwezi. I want take a rope, walk into the forest and hang myself. I’m sick and
tired of everything. This is no way to live”, she says. I don’t think I can say anything that will cheer her up
right now. “Can I come to the city too?”, she says, like that’s a possibility that just occurred to her. I look
at her and my words freeze before they leave my mouth. How do you further break a broken person?
How do you take away their last thread of hope? How would you call yourself a friend after that?

“The baby? Never mind the baby, I’ll obviously come after I give birth. I’ll manage. I need to leave Lwezi.
I can’t take it anymore”, she says, short sentences, eye contact. A tear runs down her face and I squeeze
her hand. She’s breaking my heart. “Please, let me come there. You are with the prince, surely you can
talk to him for me. I’ll sleep on the floor I don’t mind. I’ll work, anything”, she pleads.

I can’t help her. Even Ngqabutho wouldn’t agree to it if I asked. First of all he’s a child himself and
secondly, he’s a prince and would never undermine another man’s marriage like that. Taking someone’s
wife and child away from their home would be unforgivable. Besides, I don’t have anywhere to stay in
the city. Ngqa said he will make a plan and I’m not yet quite sure what that means. So where can the
homeless shelter the homeless? I really can’t help her but she’s looking at me like she will drop down
dead if I don’t say yes. “I’ll speak to Ngqa”, I say. “Really? You will? Thank you Lwezi, I owe you my life”,
she says. “Of course I will. Don’t cry now”, I assure her. “If you spent a day in my life you too would cry.
He’s horrible Lwezi. He’s terrible, worse than Bongani!”, she says. I want to tell her ‘it gets better with
time’ or ‘everything will be alright’ but I know that’s the worst thing to say to someone going through
what she’s going through.

I fill the bucket with water, ignoring the pains in my own stomach. She helps me carry the bucket on my
head and we head back to her home. It’s wrong that she’s still working so late in her pregnancy! I
desperately need to talk. I tell her about Jackie and my fear that Ngqa loves her and is just keeping me
to fill the void she left in his heart. “Ngqabutho loves you. Yes he loved her and you don’t just forget
someone you deeply loved Lwezi! Don’t punish the poor boy for having loved and lost and for trying
again with you!”, she says. Oh my! She sounds so old! “What if he doesn’t love me?”, I ask. “He loves
you! Look at everything he has done for you. How could you even doubt him?”, she says. I feel a little
guilty but I can’t shake the thought that maybe I was just a rebound.

I’m not sure how I get to telling her about my adventures with Ngqa. I swear she thinks I’m lying when I
tell her how good Ngqa gives it. She tells me to stop dreaming. The goodness of the nasty is something
she has no clue about. All she knows is the ‘behave and take it’ type. “I hate that he loved Jackie! She’s a
snake!”, I say, probably turning green. “Now you are being very silly! He slept with her, so what? Grow
up Lwezi! And this Jackie girl, don’t judge her so harshly since you say she’s been very nice to you. What
if she means well and is just being a friend? Should my sister wife hate me now because I sleep with our
husband?”, she says. “Well, yena she’s been nice. She got me the abortion pills”, I say, dropping my
voice because even grass has ears sometimes. “Abortion? You had an abortion? Abortion means the
same thing in the city as it does here, right? Or does it mean something different?”, she asks. I expected
her to be more shocked than she is.

“Mmmm, I know I was defending her but now I don’t trust this Jackie Lwezi, you must be careful”, she
says. “And don’t feel bad about what you did. I wish I had done that myself and maybe I wouldn’t be in
this situation. Maybe I could have married a man who actually loved me, you know”, she says. “Really? I
thought you would judge me harshly”, I say. “I’m your friend not your mother. My job is to be in your
corner every time even when you make bad decisions. It’s not like the situation can be undone so let’s
move on and forget the past”, she says. I missed her so much! “So have you told Ngqabutho yet?”, she
asks. “No”. “What are you waiting for?”, she asks. “I won’t tell him. I’ll keep it a secret”, I say. “Oh
honey! If two people know a secret, it's no longer a secret!”, she says. “It’s just me, you and Jackie that
know. The sangoma knows too but she won’t tell anyone!”, I say, trying hard to convince myself more
than her. “You have to tell him! Too many people know now and it’s a matter of time before the secret
comes out. Four may keep a secret, if three of them are dead. I’ll keep my mouth shut but the sangoma
and Jackie are very much alive so they could sell you out”, she says. She’s starting to sound very old! In
my heart of hearts I know she’s right.

I leave her home with a promise to visit again before I leave for the city. She reminds me to speak to
Ngqa about her joining us in the city. “I will”, I promise her. I’ll go home for now and visit my parents’
graves. They need to step up and protect me, a war is coming.

This insert is dedicated to my girl Khanyi Tamele . Thank her, she's the reason I wrote this BONUS insert
😘😘😘

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

I believe the truth doesn't like to be told and everytime we tell it we are going against its wishes.
Because why else does something always happen just before a big confession is made? Just before
someone tells the truth, a distraction almost always happens. Maybe someone shows up and interrupts
the conversation or the listener says something so beautiful it suddenly feels wrong to hurt them with
the truth or the teller gets cold feet and says something else instead. Either or, the universe always
finds a way to stop the truth from coming out. So maybe we must trust the universe and stop
confessing things we were not asked.

I had an emotional morning. Sonto hurt me deeply. Not her words no, but her being. Seeing her like
that brutally gutted me. Who is that old girl with callused hands and what did she do with my friend?
What have they done to her? I want that old bubbly Santo back. I wish she wasn't married, getting her
to the city would have been easier. She doesn't deserve any of the blows life is dishing her.
I'm plucking out weeds growing on mama’s grave and talking to myself when my peace is disturbed. “I
knew I would find you here”, I hear. I turn my head around and there's Ngqa looking finer than frog
hair. He has this intentional scruffiness about him that just works. Torn jeans, plain T-shirt, unkempt
hair, dirty converse All Stars. I gave up on the jeans and as for the dirty shoes he told me “It’s a crime to
wash All Stars!”. When I asked why he said “you just don't. You clean the inside and that's enough”.
He's weird like that! So there stands my scruffy handsome.

I quickly wipe away the tears that were flooding my eyes and stand up. “Let's get out of here”, I say,
walking away. This place holds so many memories, I'll die of heartache if I stay a second longer. His
footsteps tell me he's following.

I'm not quite sure where I want to go. I'm also worried that people will see me and Ngqa together and
we already know how much mouths run in this village. “Where are you taking me?”, Ngqa asks as he
catches up and walks by my side. “I don't know”, at least I'm honest. “Oh well, lead the way to I-don't-
know”, he says. My hand finds his and our fingers interlock. It doesn't matter anymore what anyone
says.

I change direction and head towards his home. Initially I wanted us to go down the river and follow it to
see how far we would go but I'm not feeling so great all of a sudden. I need to lie down a little and I
have no desire to sleep in any of the huts in those ruins that I called home. Sneaking in is pretty hard in
broad daylight but we make it.

It's like the first time I was in this hut. Ngqa has me pinned against the wall and he's breathing down my
neck and complaining about how my stomach is a traitor for being sore. He says we could he could be
loving on me right now but I just had to be sick.

“You know I love you, right? More than anything. I've never loved a girl the way I love you”, he says. I
blush some then look up to him. “Do you love me more than you loved Jackie?”, I ask. It's fine if the
question is childish, I'm a child. “Yes baby. I love you more than that. You are different. Unlike some
girls I've been with, you are not with me simply because I'm royalty or my family has money or for my
car or because I'm popular and all that shallow stuff. You are with me for me. You claimed me even
before I knew of your existence and when I first laid my eyes on you I knew you were the one”, he says.
These words are beautiful so why do they hurt?

“And you know what I love the most about you?”, he asks, lifting my face up to look up at him.
“What?”, I ask. “The fact that you are genuine. There's a purity about you that gets me every single
time. You tell me the truth as it is every single time. You've never lied to me and that's just priceless.
Girls are full of nonsense out here so I count myself lucky to have found you”, he says. Now how do I tell
him? I meant to but I can't.

I complain of my cramps so he makes me sit on the bed. For a while he asks if I'm alright and does his
best to make me comfortable. Then silence follows, his hands holding mine and complete silence.

“Do you want me to marry you?”, he eventually breaks the silence, holding my eyes with his. My heart
skips a beat but I smile it off. “I don't think that's how you propose! Ask me to be your second wife if
that's what you want”, I say. “I know what I want but it doesn't matter. I want to give you what you
want. So do you want me to marry you?”, he asks. “No. Not now at least. I want to finish school first”, I
respond looking down. I hope my answer didn't disappoint him.

I'm relieved when he lets out a deep sigh. “I'm so happy you said that. Not that I wouldn't be happy to
marry you. It's just that, you know what never mind”, he says. “I choose to mind, so explain yourself
Ngqa”, I say. He smiles at me. He always says he loves how I say his name which is funny really because
I think I say it like everyone else. “I'll be honest with you. I never wanted this life. I didn't want to be
married at 20! Hell, I don't even want to be a chief! I want to be known as just Ngqabutho, not nkosana
(Prince)! I want to be young and dumb, drive around with my girl and party and make mistakes without
anyone judging me. I want to make mistakes and be stupid and travel the world and do all that. And I
wanna do all that with you”, he says. Funny enough I want the exact same things.

“I love you Lwezi with all my heart, I don't know if you feel that. After Jackie I swore I'd never love again
but one smile from you and that oath was forgotten. You had me and you were all I could think of. You
make me want to protect you, to hold you, to love you and to make love to you. So ya, I might not be
thinking wedding venues and baby names right now but I promise to love you with all my heart and give
you everything I can”, he says.

“From my thing with Jackie, I learnt that lies and secrets can destroy the strongest of relationships. She
kept the truth from me and that hurt bad. Up to I today I don't know for sure what happened!”, he says.
My heart is palpitating. I feel so guilty and I'm remembering Sonto’s words. “I'm glad that now you
know about Jackie so there are no secrets between us anymore. I'm sorry for not telling you in the
beginning. I should have”, he says.

“No baby, why are you crying? Did I say something wrong?”, he says sounding concerned. “My stomach
hurts so bad”, I lie. I need this conversation to stop. It's too much for me. “Aww sorry my angel. I think I
have some painkillers in my bag, let me check”, he says. He gets me those and helps me lie down. “I
have to attend idale with the elders but I'm sure they can do without me. I'd rather cuddle here with my
girl than solve silly disputes like who stole whose goat!”, he says. “Don't cry baby. You'll feel better
soon ok? Now rest for me”, he says, his hand gently resting on my stomach. “I'm sorry”, I whisper.
“Don't be. I want to be here so it's not your fault I'm missing the meeting. Now stop talking and rest for
me my princess”, he says.

***********

“Lwezi”, Ngqa keeps calling as he shakes me. I eventually come out of my sleep and slowly open my
eyes. “What?”, I say turning around to face away from him. He's so annoying! Reality hits me
unexpectedly. I realise I’m sweating rivers and trembling. “What's wrong with me?”, I ask Ngqa as if he's
a doctor! “I don't know. Think you running a fever or something”, he says.

As I roll over, a sharp pain cuts across me and I let out an unplanned yelp. I try to sit up but I can’t. It’s an
inferno in the pits of my stomach and I can’t feel my legs. It feels like I’m burning from within. Ngqa is
standing by the bedside looking halfway between terrified and defeated. The first thing I see is his jeans
stained with blood and instinctively I panic. What happened to him? Is he hurt?

“What’s wrong baby?” he asks. I’m still disoriented and struggling to piece my memories together. “The
blood. There’s blood everywhere”, he says, looking like he just saw a dying person. I try to get up again
but the pangs force me to lie back. “No baby. Stay put. Ubaba will be here now now, he’ll know what to,
for now just breathe. Think you can do that for me?”, he says. He looks terrified. He doesn’t seem to
practice the whole ‘don’t show your emotions’ around me.

“I need to wake up Ngqa. Something is wrong”, I say. I feel so weak. There’s blood on his white bedding
and I’m embarrassed by it. “Are you on..umm..is it that time of the month?.... But I checked my phone
and you should be on next week”, he says. I’m sure he too knows this is too much blood for a period!
“They come early sometimes”, I say. I’m getting good at this lying game. I let out another shriek as a
sharp pain slices across me. Something is terribly wrong and I don’t know what to do. Everything inside
me is screaming. My spirit is twirling and churning and my heart feels so heavy.

“I’m sorry Ngqa, please forgive me”, I say. “No don’t worry about it. It’s just bedding, it can be replaced.
But you I can’t replace so hang in there my princess”, he says clasping my hands. He looks so helpless,
my poor prince. “I’m really sorry Ngqa”, I repeat. I need him to hear me. “It’s ok, really it’s fine. I love
you and this is nothing”, he says. It’s not nothing! I’m dying. “What’s taking him so long!”, he mumbles.

The door flies open and the chief walks in. “What’s going on Ngqabutho? I was in the middle of
something very important! And since when do you summon me?”, the chief says. “I’m sorry baba it’s
just I couldn’t leave her alone. She’s sick”, Ngqa says. The chiefs tone changes from annoyed to
concerned. I can read the undertone of his voice now and deduce his emotion. “What’s wrong? And why
do you have blood on your clothes?”, the chief asks. “She’s...We were sleeping. Just sleeping doing
nothing...I don’t know, then she had blood... a lot of it. I don’t know and she doesn’t know either”, Ngqa
explains. I want to chip in but I feel so faint and light headed.

The room is spinning slowly and I’m so drowsy I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. I’m fighting hard to
stay awake because who’s to say I’ll come back up if I go under?

“I must take her to hospital”, Ngqa says, more of a question than a statement really. “That’s hours away!
You should take her to the seer right away”, the chief says. I can hear them but as if from inside a cave
far away. I’m slowly drifting away. “Stay with me my baby, please”, Ngqa begs me. I want to stay,
believe me. “Bring the car around and take her to the seer right now”, the chief says and Ngqa dashes
out. I let out a gulp, the pain hit me so hard I went numb.

I remember now, I had to go to the sangoma (seer). I meant to go later in the evening. But now that
Ngqa has to take me to her, I’m scared. What if she tells him? What if I’m too late and the wrath of his
ancestors has already fallen on me? What if I die before we make it to her homestead? So many what ifs
and the more I think ‘what if’ the more doubt and terror get a hold of me.

“You’ll be alright young one, try to relax”, the chief says crouching on the side of the bed. He takes my
hand and looks into my eyes. I look away avoiding his piercing gaze. “Look at me”, he commands and
what option do I have than to look? He brings his other hand up and now both his hands are closed
around mine. The staring contest is unsettling but I was commanded. I watch his dark eyes narrow and I
don’t think I like the look in them. He drops my hand like it’s contagious. “What did you do?”, he says.
“What did you do? Answer me!”, he yells. For the first time ever, I see his face fill with anger. I want to
answer but I choke on my words and the pain in my stomach won’t let me be of sound mind.

“What’s going on? I’ve brought the car, let’s go”, Ngqa runs in. “It’s nothing”, the chief says. “I might be
wrong. I’ve been wrong before and I pray I’m wrong right now”, he says. “Wrong about what?”, Ngqa
asks, looking 50 shades of confused. “I pray I’m wrong. Tell the seer I want to see her as soon as she’s
done helping her. I don’t care if it’s midnight, she should not go to sleep without seeing me”, he says
and walks away. He knows. The look in his eye, the anger in his voice, he knows! All the things fall apart
around me I’m starting to believe that I’m cursed. And whoever put the curse on me must be dead
because if they were alive they would surely feel pity for me and undo it.

Ngqa carries me out of bed and out like I weigh nothing. I shiver a little when we step outside as a cold
breeze brushes against my bare arms. Ngqa is shouting commands and one of the workers brings
blankets and lays them at the back of the pick up van. “It’s just 5 minutes. Hang in there my princess,
you will be alright. We will be alright”, he says planting a kiss on my forehead. The chief’s homestead is
big but it’s still not that big and Princess Ndoni must have been told of my presence now. I see her
standing with her hands crossed, leaning against the wall as Ngqa lowers me onto the bed of blankets.

I look up at the sky, a few wispy clouds disturbing the light blue. The sun has set but it’s still as bright as
day. I try to ignore the rattling of the car as it drives over bumps. I reach for a place of peace inside my
heart and there’s too much fear there so I check out. I need another escape. Music is one of the best
gifts the city gave me. I try to look for a song that I can hum to in the hopes of silencing the pain. Nicki
Minaj’s Save Me comes to mind and I hold on to every word, appealing to Ngqa to save me.

"I drove for miles just to find you and find myself

All these screams, all these voices in my head

You gave me strength, gave me hope for a lifetime

I never was satisfied

This time won't you save me?

This time won't you save me?

Baby, I can feel myself giving up, giving up"

I CAN'T SEEM TO POST THE WHOLE CHAPTER ON THIS POST, SO I'LL POST THE REST OF IT ON THE NEXT
INSERT. LET'S CALL THIS ONE A

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX [A]

Don't stay down for too long lest the vultures see your weakness and prey on it. Get up, fix your crown,
dust yourself and move on. Keep your head held high and your middle finger raised higher, smile bright
and say “I’m fine thank you”. That's strength, right? Wrong. That's survival. That's because people are
watching. Strength is knowing you are weak and allowing yourself to stay on all fours for as long as you
need. One could say ‘get over it, that's nothing’ but it's something because you are feeling it. Here's the
thing about pain, don't sweep it under the rug and try to ignore it. Feel it and it will leave you sooner.
But sweep it under and you will step on it later. I like to think of myself as a deciduous tree, I keep losing
my leaves in the autumn but I remain standing tall waiting for spring to come around so I can bloom
again.
I know I made a mistake and every mistake comes with a price. A cost that won't be borne by just me
but by all those who were rooting for me. And they will pay the price too but I will get to pay the
ultimate price. Not that deciding to end the pregnancy was a mistake, make no mistake! I did what I had
to, for me and for that the warrior in me won’t let me apologise. The mistake was getting pregnant in
the first place. The mistake was naively venturing into sex and putting all my trust on Ngqa. The mistake
was being pregnant with the child of the heir to the throne. The mistake was not telling Ngqa from the
get go. And now I get to pay. The biggest mistake is me, my very being, I'm a product of my mother's
inadequacy and the finished goods of my own stupidity. And now I'm sure the price I will pay is too high
of a cost.

I need to declutter my mind and focus. Should haves and must haves never helped anyone. The present
requires my presence and my full attention. The night is silent and outside a hut I’m sitting on the
ground with my legs safely tucked under me, opposite the woman who has my life in her hands. It's just
me, the sangoma and the full moon. A dog howls in the distance and not soon after an owl hoots not so
far away. I feel a shiver run down my spine. I don’t need bad omens tonight but positivity seems so far
fetched I’m wondering if it even exists or was it just a fragment of my imagination like so many other
things.

Ngqa was asked to leave. He tried to fight it with the “it’s my girl, I won’t leave her” but the sangoma
wasn't having it. Only when she said “if she dies her blood is on your hands” did my stubborn prince
drive away. We've been waiting for the moon to rise a little higher and light up the earth from an angle
the seer knows. I personally don’t see the difference, but again I’m looking through eyes of flesh.

I hate this. I always thought I will grow up and detach from these rituals and traditions. I never quite
agreed with them. Deep down I despised them yet my life is dependent on them right now. Oh how the
universe loves taunting us! I lower myself back till I'm lying still on my back. I finally find that spot where
the pain is quiet and only then do I dare to breathe.

I can hear her going about, humming softly as she mixes her concoctions, doing whatever she's doing. I
can't see her because I'm counting the stars in the sky one by one. So sparkly and beautiful, just how I
wish my life could be. “Sit up, it’s time”, she says. She's not unkind but she has this harshness about her,
like everything must be done quickly or else she will get mad. “It hurts”, I say. I’m no about to move.
“You don't want to imagine the pain you'll feel if we don't get this right! Sit up”, she says. I try to balance
with my elbow but the pain sends me right back on my back. “Little girl, sit up! We have a small window
and I can’t be begging you all night! You have to take this seriously”, she says. I make a discontented
sound that wasn’t made to be heard. “I see you think they will just kill you and spare you the grief. No,
they will grind you and watch you squirm and burn. Then they will leave you alone to heal then they will
come back for you and crush you till you are begging for death but even death will look away then. So sit
up and let's do this”, she says. Whether she spoke the truth or not, it was enough to make me get up. I
bite my lip so hard I taste blood but I sit up anyway and do everything she tells me to.

This feels wrong. I could swear it's witchcraft but what's a girl to do when her life is under attack by
unseen forces? “They are demanding a black cow to be killed by a Nxumalo. Only then will they forgive
you”, she says. Oh no! Could they get more spiteful! “So I need to tell Ngqabutho the truth?”, I ask. “No
one can tell you what you need to do. You do what you need to do, it's entirely up to you”, she says. I
hope she doesn't see me roll my eyes. “I don't have cows or anything for that matter. How will I
appease them? Isn't there another way?”, I ask. Besides, they are dead! What do they want a cow for?
Couldn't they ask for something more reasonable like a packet of biscuits? Or a chicken ke at least?

“They are not the negotiating type. Royalty must have gotten to their heads!", she says. "A dark cloud
hovers over you, that cow will be what it takes to dissipate it”, she says. She takes both my hands and
mumbles and speaks in an unholy language. I sit there staring at her. I don't like any of this.

“Tell him, it's the only way. He can save you. You don't have to say it as it is. Find a way to let him know,
a way that leaves you the victim and he will have no option but to forgive you”, she says with a voice I
knew so well. A voice that used to sing to me when I was little. “But first you need to forgive yourself.
It's onwards from here, what's done is done”, the voice says. “Mama?”. I can hear her but the face
staring back at me is not hers. It's the sangoma and I'm so confused.

“You've heard”, she says, her harsh voice back. “Was it her? Mama?”, I ask, a tear rolling down my eye.
“Who?”, she asks looking at me like I'm crazy and maybe I am crazy.

The ritual is complete and she says whether it works or not is now entirely up to me. “What should I do?
Please tell me”, I plead. “What do you want to do?”, she asks. “I don't want him to know”, I say.
“Why?”, she asks. “Because I love him and I can't lose him”, and that's the honest truth. “Does he love
you?”, she asks. “Yes. I don't know. I think so”, I say. “You say you don't want him to know because
you don't want to lose him. That is selfish. Then you say you love him yet you will withhold this from
him? That is also selfish. Now tell me truly, what do you want to do?”, she asks me. “I don't know”, I
respond. “Very well then. Do nothing until you are sure because once words are spoken you can't take
them back. But whatever decision you make, bear in mind the demands of the ancestors”, she says.
Can't I catch a break!

“I think the chief knows”, I say. “Of course he does. Isn't I gave you the bone for protection but you put
it away”, she says. That's unfair. I didn't put it away it was in my pocket and when I changed clothes in
the morning I forgot it in there. Why is she making it seem like I threw it away on purpose! “He said he
wants to see you”, I say. “I know. The prince told me”, she says. I wish she could just say everything
without me having to ask. It would be easier that way. “Please don't tell him”, I ask. I don't know if it's
my fear of disappointing the chief or the fear of being cast out or of Ngqa and his entire clan hating me. I
just know it's a lot of fear. “I promised you I wouldn't say anything and my word is one thing I keep. If I
were to open my chest and let all the secrets out, a war would break out in this village", she says.

"The chief suspects and if I tell him he's wrong then on the day the truth comes out, what will be said of
me? So I won't go and see the chief tonight, I'll let you decide what it is you want. You are the author of
your own destiny child, so what happens from here is up to you. Choose wisely”, she says.

“None of this is your fault Lwezi. All these bad things happening around you, it's not your fault”, she
says. I look up at her not understanding. “You inherited the curses of your mother and until you are
cleansed nothing will ever go right for you”, she says. She goes deep and terrifies the life out of me
saying one of my mother’s children is of royal blood but was given the wrong surname so the ancestors
are still upset up to this day. And I so happened to be cursed along with my brothers because of her. I
don't know what's more shocking, to think one of my brothers is not my father's child or the fact that
mama did something like that.

So I'm just a casualty in a war I know nothing of?

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX [B]

I must have been lying here for hours now, on a goat skin mat covered with a smelling blanket on a
kitchen floor. Ngqa gently taps me on the shoulder and I'm so relieved to see him. “How are you
feeling? Let's go home”, he says, speaking softly. “I brought you a change of clothes. Let me help you
with that”, he says giving me a hand. I stand quietly as he helps me into my night dress and he
occasionally apologises for me being sick as if it’s his fault. He really is special and I can’t lose him, my
heart beats with his and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I feel so much better now and it’s weird
leaving someone’s home at midnight.

There's still that uncomfortable stillness of the night when we step outside. We make a pass by the old
woman’s hut, the candle light showing between thatched roof and mud wall tells us that she must be
still up. She lets us knock and knock. We know she’s awake because she’s humming and Ngqa says he
spoke to her before he came for me. After forever she opens the door with a rude “What?”. “Father said
I must bring you before him, he will speak to you this night”, Ngqa says. “Go and tell your father than
the night is for witches and owls. I was up all night waiting for you to come and fetch your wife, can I be
allowed to sleep now? I will speak to him in the morning”, she says. “She’s not my wife!”, Ngqa says.
“Yes she is. Now take her and leave me in peace”, she says. “I’m sorry elder but father won’t be pleased
with your response. See, he wasn’t exactly asking, he said I must command you if you refuse”, Ngqa
says.

She laughs, that dragged, over exaggerated old women’s exclamation laugh. “Ngqabutho Nxumalo! How
many people must command me? Everyday the ancestors command me to do this and that and now I
must take commands from you and your father as well? If your father has a problem with me not
coming there, tell him to come here. He knows the way, doesn't he?”, she says. “You know he can’t do
that. It’s late at night”, Ngqa says. “Oh! So it’s late for him to come here but it’s not late for me to go
there? Just go away, both of you, just go”, she says and shuts the door in our faces. We look at each
other and turn to walk away.

The door opens and she says “Ngqabutho, she’s all you have. When the spear she stabbed you with is
brought before you, do not take it and kill her with it. Clean off your blood from it and bury it deep in
the earth. Listen to the earth Ngqabutho, it knows best and when you can't distinguish the voices, you
know my gate is always open”. She holds her hand up just as Ngqa’s lips part, to silence him. Then she
turns to me, “And you, I will speak to the chief in the morning. It might be better if what’s to be spoken
would already been spoken to him who must hear it”. The door slams in our faces again! “What was that
about?”, Ngqa says and I shrug my shoulders. I know what she meant but now is not the right time to
talk.

*************

I toss and turn and wake up screaming from a terrible nightmare. Ngqa is still sleeping, even my
screaming didn’t wake him. I shake him gently, enough times until he opens his eyes and complains
about me disturbing his sleep. “What’s wrong baby? Let’s get some rest”, he says. It’s still night but the
moonlight pouring into the room through the half closed curtains makes me see the outline of his face.

“I need to tell you something”, I say. “You can tell me in the morning. Let’s sleep”, he says. “It can’t wait.
I must tell you now before I get cold feet”, I say. I’m already panicking and wondering if I should tell him.
“You know I love you but come on, it must be 3 am! Let me sleep, please my angel”, he says, pulling the
blankets over his head. “No Ngqa, just listen”, I say. He stays buried under the blanket.

“I lost our baby”, I say and wait. A part of me is hoping he didn’t hear me and I can go back to sleep.
"What do you mean you lost our baby?", he asks, sitting up. "It just came out. I wasn't feeling so great
and Cass's mum said I was pregnant so she threw me out and I went to Jackie's house. I wasn't feeling
so well so I asked for pain killers and then I went to sleep. When I woke up I was bleeding and that was
it", I say. I meant to tell him the truth but I couldn't bring myself to. "What? Why didn't you tell me?",
he says. He's full awake now. "I... I was afraid that you would hate me for it", I say. "Why would I hate
you for it? It wasn't your fault", he says. "You should have told me, I would have supported you. I
would have taken you to hospital and taken care of you. We are in this together and you my baby,
there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You should never be afraid to tell me anything”, he says.

"I'm lying", I say. I can't keep it inside me anymore. He's saying all the right things and holding me and
promising to love me for eternity. I’m hoping he forgives me. "The pills I took, I knew they would kill
the baby but I took them anyway", I say. I'm grateful for the dimness so I don't have to see his face.
"Jackie told you to do it, didn't she?" he asks. I've never heard him sound so angry before. I nod. "And
you did it?", he asks. I nod. "Did she force them down your throat?", he asks. I shake my head. He
laughs a little and I'm not sure whether he's laughing at me or at the situation or what.

He gets out of bed and paces as I nervously wait for him to say something. "Then you kept it from me?
Me? You made such a huge decision without me? Earlier I was going out of my head thinking you were
dying here! I even thought someone bewitched you for being with me and I didn't know how I would
live with myself if you died. But I was a fool, right? Watching me run around and beg my father for help.
I was just a fool, right? You were laughing at me in your head, right?", he says. I stand too, the physical
pain is barely there now.

"It's your fault Ngqabutho. All this is your fault! You could have chosen to tell me about Jackie but you
chose not to. You and Jackie, all this is your fault", I scream at him, wanting to hit him with my fists. He
holds my hands and stops me. "No lil mama, this is on you. You chose to keep me out of it and now you
want to turn around and say it's my fault? No, stop tripping! I'm not going to fall for that reverse
psychology shit. Try something else", he says with that laugh. He gets the lights and I wish I could die
right now. The look in his eyes doesn't need interpretation. He hates me. “And you know what’s fucked
up? I would have supported you with the abortion if that’s what you wanted. We would have done it
right, consulted and done in a safe space. I don’t want to be a father yet and I know you are young so I
would have supported you. But you chose to keep it from me and now you want to turn around and
blame it on me? How sick is that?”. I'm not sure what to say. I'm sorry, I truly am. "How can I trust you
after this? What else are you hiding from me?", he snaps at me. “Nothing, it’s just this I swear”, I wish he
could just believe me.

I watch as he angrily puts on a T-shirt, inside out, and puts on a track bottom over his shorts. "They are
all the same! All of them. Might as well do myself a favour and stop trying to be so good. I thought she
was different but no matter how good I am to them, they just can't do right by me. I don't deserve this.
Does she even know the bullshit I have to go through to defend my being with her? Does she know all
the respect I’ve lost because my wife is still untouched? My uncles told me never to trust a woman but I
wore my heart on my sleeve and now I'm just a fool. Maybe I should just remember I'm fucken 20 and
start acting like it. This village, this throne, these girls, everything. I'm done with it. Signing up for that
overseas exchange program doesn’t sound so bad now. At least I’ll be so far away no one will even
remember my name". He's talking alone and with that tone I don't dare interrupt. He's been fighting
with his shoes this whole time and I’m scared to say anything. I didn’t mean to hurt him like this. When
he's done lacing up he stands, walks to me and looks down at me. The look in his eyes is one that if I
never see again, it will be too soon.

"I'm sorry Ngqa".

"I'm sorry too Lwezi".

As the door shuts with a bang, I wonder if it will ever open again. There goes my heart.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

What's worse than not knowing is not knowing that you don't know. How do you begin to solve a
problem you don't know you have? If you don't know it's broken how will you know to fix it? Well, I
know now that out of all my mother's possessions all I inherited was a curse. I wish I could retrace her
life and find answers, pinpoint the source of her curse then maybe I could understand why I had to
suffer so much. And maybe just maybe I could forgive her. Sonto’s mother will know. The other woman
who mentioned my mother's immorality surely will know and that one and that other one too. No, I
was wrong. The worst thing is not not knowing, it's being the only one who doesn't know when
everyone around you knows but choose to keep it away from you and watch you stagger through life
with an unknown curse heavy on your back.

How do you begin to fix your life when it's shattered into a hundred pieces? Ngqa is my lifeline so
breaking that line took something from me. When he walked out of that door I knew Ndoni would wake
up with a smile on her face. I handed her the Prince on a silver platter and when his emotions are
charged up I know he will give her a night to remember. I've been there and smiled for days on end
after that. Thinking about it is making me feel sick to my stomach.

My love for him is still as hot as the fires of hell but his for me is like a chicken’s tooth - non existent. He
hates, I know it. I'm just hoping it's not me he hates but what I did. Although I don't know if it's possible
to hate the action independent of the person. I dropped a bomb and as it exploded, with it our love
shattered on my feet. But love, even when laying on the ground broken into a million pieces is still love,
right? I'll rest in that thought. Maybe he will come back and take my hand and together we can pick up
the pieces and build a beautiful mosaic with them.

I sank onto the floor when he left, my heart screaming ‘run after him you foolish girl’ but my soul
whispering ‘be still little one, it is well’. And so I listened to my soul and sat with my back against the
bed, hugging my knees and crying my eyes out. I thought he loved me but he said I'm like everyone else.
I was his limited edition, exclusive only to his royal highness, but now I'm as good as a buy one get one
free at the supermarket. I might as well get up and leave right now. My home is ruins and since I sealed
it following our traditional ways, I might need a healer to do a small unsealing ritual for me. I can't afford
anymore curses cast on me.

I'm almost certain that Ngqa will tell the chief what I did, they have that bond that mama and I never
had. The chief won't forgive me. He's a man and he wouldn't begin to imagine what it's like being
pregnant and looking at a future so bleak the only way out is to do whatever it takes to be unpregnant
again. Only those who have walked a mile inside my shoes might understand.

I don't know when I dozed off because the next time I'm woken up it's already bright outside. “Hey”,
she says poking me with her big toe. I jump up thinking Ngqa is back. “Ngqabu…”, the rest of my words
evaporate. “Hi Lwezi. You thought it was Ngqabutho? Oh shame you poor thing!”, she says, her arms
crossed across her chest and attitude written in capital letters all over her face. I want to ask her if she
goes to bed wearing make up so that if she says yes then I can tell her that Jackie said it will eat her skin
and leave her with a serious breakout. But I realise it's freshly done so maybe she wakes up an hour
earlier than the rest of us to put her face on.

I stand and look at her. She's taller than me and she's using that to look down at me with a
condescending smile. “Ndoniyamanzi, Good morning”, I say and genuflect. “Nkosazana (princess) will
do and I prefer it when people kneel when they address me. Try again”, she says. How I hate hierarchy!
I sigh in disapproval but my knees find their way down to the floor. I can't have both the Prince and the
Princess on my case today. I greet her royal snobbishness again then get ready to get back up. “I'm not
done talking so you'll stay on your knees, pretty one”, she says, obviously taunting me with that last
part. “So tell me. Lwezi, right?”, she says pulling a chair. I nod and keep my eyes on the floor. If I look
her in the face I might laugh at her surprised looking eyebrows and that might not go too well for me.

My heart sinks when I realise that her newly found bullying courage could mean Ngqa finally bedded
her. “You are welcome”, I say. Damn these rogue thoughts that run out of my mouth without clearance!
“What for?”, she asks. How can she not know? “Where's Ngqabutho?”, she asks. I shrug my shoulders.
I should be asking her that. “You know Lwezi, I'm a very good person but you, you push me to the edge.
I came to this good-for-nothing village to help uplift you people and what does the stupid prince do? He
avoids my hut like a disease! Do you know how many men would die just to look at my body? And he, no
matter how hard I seduce him, he looks away!”, she says. If she could drop the attitude maybe I would
feel sorry for her. “And it's all your fault! You are giving him what he must be getting from me! Did you
give him a love portion? Because, honey seriously, no offence but look at you and then look at me”, she
says. Her voice is funny! She will do so well in the city with aboJackie, she rolls her tongue like them
when she's talking. I have a mouthful to say but I learnt long ago that silence is the best because talking
brings nothing but wahala (trouble).
“So what's the plan? You will become second wife? We will share our pompous Prince? Well, his ego
definitely needs more than one person to manage!.... What's the plan? You will bear the heir?”, she asks
and I respond with silence. “I hope you know that my son will be the heir even if he's younger than
yours. Besides, Ngqabutho can never marry you because you are not royalty. You are a glorified
prostitute my dear and Ngqabutho is only with you to get back at me and dammit it's working!”, she
says. She knows I know the laws of the village better than her, right? She's a stranger but I was born
here. If Ngqabutho wanted to marry me he could because he has royalty for a first wife, the rest of us
don't have to be. If I have a son before her, he will the heir because of their father's blood, they would
be royalty. But no one is in the mood to correct Miss know it all now.

“I'm willing to give you whatever you want in exchange for Ngqabutho. Name your price”, she says.
“He's your husband I don't have to give him to you”, I say. Keeping quiet gets tiring after a while. “Yeah
right. Everyone is starting to think I'm barren now! I need that fuckboy in my bed as soon as possible”,
she says. She speaks just like the city girls and I'm becoming more and more curious about her. And
speaking to her now, she's not so bad. She tries hard to establish herself but deep down she's just a girl
licking wounds from being rejected over and over again.

“You sound educated”, I blurt out, anything else but to talk about Ngqabutho. “That's because I am. Ok
learned but not as educated as I wish”, she says. I look up at her, still on my knees. “I always thought I
would be a doctor one day and do big things. I had dreams, you know”, she says, nostalgia coating her
voice. “So why didn't you?”, I ask. “Because of this, all this nonsense. I had to own up to my duties and
marry this ridiculously rude ass of a prince! I had to give up going to university to honour my duties. And
look at me, I'm doing great, ain't I? Married to myself!”, she says. This calmness they teach royalty is
unsettling.

“I'm sorry Ndoni. Ngqa and I just happened. I didn't ask for this”, I say. “Save it. You knew exactly what
you were doing. It's more honourable if you own up to it than to play the good girl card!”, she says.
She's not that much older than me but you'd swear she's talking to a little child. “Do you love him?”, she
asks. “I do. And you?”, I say. “Oh well, I love only when I'm loved, my emotional health is very
important to me so I don't dish out my love willy nilly. I love only those who deserve it”, she says. A
simple “I do” or “I don't” was all I was looking for not a whole composition! “I asked you Lwezi and I
really don't like repeating myself! I give you one thing and you give me Ngqabutho Nxumalo. Name your
price”, she says.

I need a moment. There's so many things I need. I'm sure she has connections in the city and I could use
a place to stay. I could ask her to read me that letter Ngqabutho wrote to me. I could ask for money and
find my way to the city. I could ask for so many things. “Tick tock girlfriend. Patience is not a gift I was
given by the good fairies, I'm not Sleeping Beauty”, she says. “Sleeping who?”, I ask. “You know
sometimes I forget how backward you are! Never mind, just tell me what you want and I'll give it to
you”, she says. I shrug my shoulders. I'm still thinking.
“I need to have a child soon to secure this throne then see if I can still go and chase after my own
dreams”, she says. “You can't do that! Marriage is forever!”, I say. “Yeah whatever Little Red Riding
Hood! It's a marriage of convenience and if I bear them a son then my job here will be done. And who
knows? Maybe Prince Charming can knock you up too and you can raise your little bastards and live
happily ever after”, she says.

“I've decided what I want”, I say. “What?... Speak!”, she says. “Nothing. I don't want anything. I can't
betray Ngqa”, I say. Once was enough and I won't further push him away. “Oh dear. Are you that
dickmatised? Just give him to me for Pete’s sake!”, she snaps. I don't even know why me and her are
having this conversation right now. I don't have the power to give Ngqa to her. He's a full grown man
and he makes his own decisions. I can't even ask him because he hates me now.

“Didn't he come to you at dawn?”, I ask. “To do what?”, she asks, raising an eyebrow and looking
funnier. Phew! I'm so relieved. I have this jealousy over Ngqa that I can't explain. My knees are
beginning to hurt but I have to stay put! “I'll go and have my breakfast now. If I'm not pregnant by next
month, you'll wish you never met Ngqabutho, I swear to you”, she says. Oh dear! Another one. Join the
queue Princess.

I don't think I have the authority to ask maid servants to do things for me but I have no option. I must
bath and prepare for the worst.

***********

A knock on the door and a ‘come in’ from me. I am getting comfortable, ain't I? “The chief summons
you, princess”, the messenger says and goes away before I can even ask where, how, with who. Did he
just call me princess? I'll take that as a prophecy, thank you. I look good, if I do say so myself. I look
curvy in this flared dress and I even attempted to ruffle out the curls of my hair. I gave up trying to
comb it, now I just use my fingers to untangle it. My hair annoys me but Ngqa loves it and mama called
it my crown and said I should never cut it. I have dirty once-white AllStars on my feet. Old me would
have washed them clean by now but Ngqa said it's embarrassing to wear clean AllStars, his words ‘you
just never wash them, ever! Clean the inside and let the outside get as dirty as possible’. And his word is
law in my heart.

I make it to the door, announce my presence and I'm invited in. A reed mat is waiting for me on the
floor and the chief, Ngqa and the sangoma are seated in silence. “Right, let's get right to business. I
don't have all day”, the chief says. The kindness and gentleness I'd become familiar with is not there
today. His voice is dry and his words are straight to the point.

“Ngqabutho, I've spoken to the seer and she tells me that you were aware of what happened to Lwezi”,
he says. My eye rises just in time to see the brief eye exchange between Ngqa and the sangoma. “Yes
father”, Ngqa says. My heart is pounding and threatening to jump out of my chest. Can they speak
faster so we get over this faster and I get to deal with the consequences sooner.

Ngqa’s shoes look muddied and there’s a few needles of Black-jack sticking onto the ankle part of his
track bottom. So he really didn't go to Ndoni, praise the heavens. With his shoes looking like that, he
either went down to the river or somewhere else but he definitely went outside his homestead. Maybe
to the seer? She did tell him to come if he needed to talk. “Ngqabutho, tell me exactly what happened”,
the chief says.

“First of all, I would like to apologise for keeping this from you. You have never given me any reason to
lie to you yet continously I lie and drift further away from your trust. Forgive my nature and my
wayward ways my chief”, Ngqa says. He isn't talking to me but the way he said that, I find myself
forgiving him. “You will always have my trust, as for forgiveness, that is something you ask for after
you've spoken. I can't grant you that before I hear you. What then if you have done the unforgivable?
How will I retract the forgiveness l’ll have granted you?”, the chief says.

“I understand. I will tell you the truth as it is. May you keep your heart pure, your thoughts indifferent,
your judgement fair and your emotions dead”, Ngqa says. "By the laws set for us by our forefathers, I
will abide. Let no fear conquer your heart and let no lie escape your lips. You may proceed", the chief
says. Ngqa clears his throat and I feel a chill in my bones. This is it! My secrets bared infront of the chief.

“I'm the reason we didn't tell you the truth. Lwezi insisted that we tell you but I made her promise not
to. I didn't mean any disrespect father, I was afraid you would stop funding her studies if you found out
she was pregnant”, Ngqa says. He looks at me with a don't-you-dare-say-a-word eye and I look down.
“But she wasn't pregnant, was she? The seer said there was no child in her womb”, the chief says. “She
lost the baby. The day before I left the city was the day we found out she was pregnant. She was
terrified so I told her not to tell anyone until I made a plan. But Cass’s mother found out and threw her
out. She was under a lot of stress and being young, scared and alone, she had a miscarriage. She
reached out to me and I told her not to say anything, that I would be the one to tell you about it. I was
going to tell you but I didn't want to disappoint you again”, he says.

If the chief could just look at the way Ngqa’s playing with his fingers, he would know all his son said is a
lie. I don't understand why he's covering up for me when I'm sure he hates me now. “Is what he's
saying true?”, the chief says to the seer. “I wasn't there when the children were making the child or
when they lost the child. So the prince's word is the truth as we know it, no one else can say it's not”,
the seer says. “Lwezi, is it true?”, he asks, that warmth and kindness having returned. I nod my head
vigorously. I'm afraid to speak and end up telling the truth and messing up everything.

“What's the way forward then?”, the chief asks. “I have cleansed her womb but the ancestors demand a
black cow to remove the dark cloud hovering over her”, she says. The chief looks at Ngqabutho. “That's
not a problem, a cow from my herd can be used for the ceremony. What ever else is needed will be
provided”, Ngqa says. “Very well then”, the chief says.

“My chief, you owe Lwezi an apology and your blessing so the ceremony can be a success”, the
sangoma says. “An apology? What for?”, the chief asks. “For things we cannot discuss in front of the
children. I know you have seen the visions but you have chosen to ignore them. You cannot ignore them
any longer. The calf must come home to the kraal, it has been lost in the meadow for too long. It is
time”, she says. The chief looks confused as he says “sorry” to me. I can tell he doesn't know what for
and as I forgive him I also don't know what for.

The sangoma excuses herself and says the ceremony will be done when I become clean again and “no
blood runs out your body”, she says. She says she has to leave because her lips are refusing to stay shut
and if she keeps talking she might start a war before the soldiers are ready to fight. She scurries away
and the chief follows shortly, leaving Ngqa and I alone.

I get on my knees and move towards him till I'm kneeling at his feet. I take his hands in mine and a tear
rolls out of my eye and onto his hand. I'm looking for the right words to say but all I can come up with
is, “Thank you Nxumalo”. A thousand thank yous wouldn't be enough to express my gratitude for the
way he lied for me and saved my neck. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to him and being the
best girlfriend to him. He remains quiet and looking up at him I can't find the love in his face.

“We will be fine Ngqa, right? We will make it through this? You just showed me an act of love I couldn't
imagine and I'll forever be grateful for it. I love you and I'm sorry”, I say. Silence. I promise him a love
so pure and shower him with apologies but he doesn't budge. His face remaining stoic. “Please say
something Ngqa”, I plead. Saying his name, hoping that loud click I make that always makes him smile
will get to him. “What do you want me to say Lwezi?”, he asks, avoiding eye contact. “At least tell me
you love me. Give me that to hold on to”, I say. He laughs a little and still won't look at me. “What you
just did, that's love. You love me, don't you?”, I know I'm pushing it but I'm desperate. “I love you
Lwezi but I'm not in love with you right now”, he says. He pushes my hands away, stands and walks out
of the door without looking back.
BONUS CHAPTER (A peace offering for announcing the end 💜)

NGQABUTHO NXUMALO

Son of Chief Nqobizitha Nxumalo

Prince of Matombo. Heir to the throne

‘If we forget who we are, where we come from, our very roots and traditions and that culture that
makes us us, then who are we exactly? They say the ancestors may annoy you, but don’t make the
mistake of annoying them back because they may annoy you forever (Stolen from Fierce –
https://web.facebook.com/theyinyourmanissilent/)’.

All I can think of is getting into my car and driving. Blast some music, hit the road and just drive. That’s
exactly what I’m going to do. I can’t be here, it’s my home but right now I need to leave before I do or
say things that will be used against me in the future. I keep wondering if I did the right thing or not. I
swore to tell the truth then looked my father in the eye and lied. Constantly my father takes my side and
stands up for me but constantly I let him down and lie to him. The guilt is eating me up and I’m thinking
maybe I should have told the truth.

When I left Lwezi earlier I desperately needed to speak to someone. I hesitated and paced outside
Ndoni’s hut but it didn’t feel right so I left. It was dawn so I couldn’t exactly visit anyone. I found myself
at the sangoma’s home and although she bit my head off and told me I owed her a goat to pay for the
sleep she’d given up for me, she let me in. I told her everything Lwezi had told me and I didn’t know why
I was shocked when she said “I know”. I mean she’s a seer and knowing things is part of her job
description. We spoke at length about everyone and everything. I did most of the speaking and she did
the nodding and listening. In her encrypted parables I deduced that she wanted me to save Lwezi. And
as always, she didn’t say why. She said something about her being all I have although that makes no
sense because I have a big family and one day soon I’ll sit on that throne and I will have everyone.

I feel bad for leaving Lwezi like that but I can’t help how I feel. I’ve been betrayed and lied to before so I
value honesty above all else. I knock on the door. I used to knock on this very door almost every night
when I was a child. I used to be haunted by terrible nightmares but they insisted that I sleep alone. My
mother would open the door and let me sleep in the other room and my father would complain about
how she would make me a sissy and I had to man up. I miss her so much. I was only 6 when she died,
supposed to be too young to understand death yet I understood it fully. She was gone and I knew life
would never be the same for me again. I was said to be too young to attend the funeral but I cried and
begged my father until he let me. I still feel the pain everytime I think of her so I speak very little of her
to avoid awakening the memories. I see her in my dreams sometimes, less and less now, and I miss her
so much. My father did the best he could with me. After the funeral the nightmares wouldn’t stop so he
let me sleep in his bed until I healed. It wasn’t easy for him to be a father, a mother and a chief at the
same time. He took a second wife, a third till he took a fifth, but none of them filled the void my mother
had left.

No one knows for certain what happened to my mother and there were so many speculations. I think
my father knows because the sangoma would have told him and maybe one day he will tell me. Some
said whatever killed her was meant for the chief so another would take the throne. That would mean
Cass’s father and no way he would have done that. He hates the village and everything in it. Some say it
was meant to kill me but they have never said why. My father has always maintained that it was a
natural death although he knows I know it wasn’t. I was there!

I’m not the only child. I have 13 siblings from my father’s four wives and just like their mothers have
failed to mother me, they too have failed to brother and sister me. Everyone knows that when it comes
to royal affairs every wife wants their son on the throne so you need to be careful what you eat and
from whose house you eat from.

Today is one of those days I miss my mother. Somehow the whole ordeal with Lwezi has me yearning for
her hug and just to hear her voice one last time. I’m the only child she ever had and when she died she
was pregnant. That’s why when Jackie lost the baby the first time it cut me deep and now Lwezi went
and did that! I have nothing against abortions because I understand that women get to choose what
they want to do with their bodies. But it’s far more than that to me. It takes me to a place so dark when I
get there I struggle to get out. So Lwezi took me right back to the day my mother died. I was the first to
find her and she kept telling me to save the baby, but I was only 6, what could I have done? Then before
she died she said “Find your brother, the throne is his. Don’t fight him for it”. I never repeated those
words to anyone because they didn’t make any sense. I am Ngqabutho, the first born. I have no brother.

“Ngqa, close the door”, father says when I walk in. A large portrait of my mother hangs on the wall and
he is sitting on the chair looking at it. Although it’s customary that wives have their own huts, my
parents broke the rules and shared this 2 bedroomed hut. I pull a chair and sit next to him studying the
portrait of my mother. I think I will cry any moment now and if there’s one thing I appreciate about my
father it’s that he has never makes me feel less of a man for crying. My uncles on the other hand, I
learnt the hard way. The way they ridiculed me made me afraid of tears. No one has seen my tears since
except for my father and Lwezi.

“I miss her so much”, I say. His hand fumbles for mine and our fingers intertwine. “I miss her too.
There’s so much I still needed to say to her”, he says. “It’s hard baba, I don’t want to be a prince, I don’t
want any part of it. I want mummy back”, the tears came from nowhere and they came in torrents. Like
every other time I’ve cried in his presence, father kneels before me and cradles my head. “We don’t
choose our paths Ngqa and you’re walking yours so well. I know your mother is proud of you and I am
proud of you too. You are everything to me Ngqabutho and watching you in pain kills me”, he says. He
holds me there telling me I will be alright.

When I finally pull myself together, I feel the need to confess. “I lied father”, I say. I will tell him
everything about Lwezi. “I’m sure you had a very good reason to tell whatever lie to whoever you told it
to. Stick to the decision you made and see it through. Don’t tell me”, he says, wiping away my tears. I
feel like a child every time he does this.

“Let’s get out of here, I’m sure your mother is looking at us from the other side thinking ‘these idiots of
mine’”, he says and we chuckle. He knows how to cheer me up. “Walk with me, let’s go and pay her a
visit”, he says. For a homestead full of children, it’s awfully quiet. I walk with my father, side by side.
“You and the girl, what’s the problem?”, he asks. “No, there’s no problem”. I can’t tell him the truth
because he said I must stick to my lie. “I don’t know what it is but I sensed that it’s deep. Whatever it is
Ngqa remember that to err is human and to forgive is divine”, he says. “I’m not ready to forgive her, she
hurt me and I don’t think she knows how much”, I say. “Only forgive when you are ready to. There’s
nothing worse than prematurely forgiving someone then still punish them because you never really
forgave them in the first place. So, take your time but don’t take long because when love is not
nurtured, it dies”, he says.

“I need to tell you about her mother”, he says. I’m all ears but we’ve reached my mother’s grave and I’m
distracted. I stood right here 14 years ago, crying and screaming with father trying to keep me still. Now
that I’m older I know I shouldn’t have made a sound but at that time it hurt so bad I wanted to scream
and scream and hope the pain would leave me. And for whatever reason no one stopped me and for
that I’m forever grateful. I watched Lwezi at her mother’s funeral and all I wanted to do was hold her
and allow her to scream but people were watching and tradition always wins in this village.

*********

“Take care my son and be safe out there”, my father says as I jump in the passenger’s side. We had a sad
rest of the morning reminiscing about my mother and he put being a chief aside and fathered me. “Keep
well too Nxumalo, I will be back when I’m ready”, I say. “Take as long as you need. You have my
blessing”, he says. We both say our clan names together for I might be gone for a day, a year or twenty
years, no one knows how long it takes to get ready.

It’s just girls on my mind as the driver drives and I lie back. Lwezi, Ndoni, Jackie. They all have one thing
in common – beauty. Lwezi has that unpolluted natural beauty with that hair that makes me want to
pull her closer for a kiss. She’s innocent and her giggling gets me every single time. She’s gorgeous and
her espect makes her even more attractive. The way she says my name, the way she smiles, the way she
blushes and the way she says ‘Ngqa’ everytime I delve into her depths. She drives me crazy and makes
me want to do everything for her. My precious pretty one.

Jackie is pure sexiness. She’s a temptress and she’s not shy about it. She has that confidence that can
bring a man to his knees and she came with experience that maybe should have scared me but it turned
me on so much. When we started, she was a one night stand, then the second time happened and the
third then I thought it would be just a fling. Then I woke up one day and I was in too deep with her. I
loved her more and more until she was all I lived for. I know it’s wrong but right now I could use that tiny
waist of hers in my arms. My feisty, sexy ex girlfriend.

Ndoniyamanzi. My wife. A pretty girl with a stinking attitude is the ugliest thing ever. I’m the type of guy
who sees behind looks. I know she thought I was joking when I told her I had no desire to touch her after
she looked down on my village. It’s been hard though. There are nights she comes into my hut with just
a gown on and when she takes it off, damn mami! Only the thought of staying true to Lwezi always
makes me resist. I feel bad sometimes because it can’t be easy for her. She needs to get pregnant and
soon, the elders are already on her case. I want her to go back home or go back to school or whatever
she wants. I don’t want her. Period. My stuck up bitch of a wife.

I don’t know when we made it to the city. I was lost in thought going through the list of my Girls College
honeys and my DC catholic school girls. Something about rich girls screams naughty and if the seats of
my car could talk! I can confidently say I enjoyed my teenage years. Well, until I decided to commit of
course, worst mistake of my life. I’m done with commitment, it brings nothing but pain and betrayal.

I thank the driver as he pulls up outside the gate and give him some money. He has a salary yes but one
can never have enough money. I’m in no mood for Cass’s mum so I get in, grab my keys and head to the
garage. All I need now is a full tank, music and a road. Seeing Cass’s car here makes me sad, I know he
needs me but for me to be fully there for him, I need to be ok. I need to radiate positive energy around
him or else I will drain him further. It’s not his fault and he doesn’t deserve to be in that place. If only his
mother would just listen and let us take Cass back to the village and to the mountains. He’s royal blood
and live as urban as we all do he can’t hide from the ancestors. I fear the worst and I would never
forgive myself if he died or worse if he went mad. I might need to prince up and make the decision
myself. I’ll think of that tomorrow, today I drive.

Stop at a garage, fill up the tank, give the attendant a handsome tip, black shades on, it’s time to hit the
road. I turn the volume up as Akon sings Shake Down. Listening to this nigga makes me look at jail as a
place I should spend a few months in! He makes being a convict sounds so appealing. I think I have a role
model.
The phone rings and it’s Lwezi, damn her for disturbing my music! I put it on airplane mode and drive
on. The roads are clear of police and their senseless roadblocks, now that’s a miracle. I keep going,
picking up the speed, overtaking unnecessarily, making dangerous sharp turns. The thrill of it all is
making adrenalin flow through my body.

I’m in Gwanda! I didn’t realise I had been driving that long! Ok I’ve come too far now and the sun is
going down. I feel so much better already. The drive back is more tiring and less fascinating and by the
time I make it back to the city I’m in a different mood and Akon is singing Usually at the top of his voice.
And just like him, usually I don’t do this shit.

I knock on the door and wait. “Hey Ngqa”, she says with that cute smile. It’s a pity she’s growing up
without parents around so her skirts just keep getting shorter and she’s been giving it up since she was
13. Very bad if you ask me considering how much potential she has. She’s going to end up pregnant and
a single parent at this rate. “What you up to?”, I ask. “I’m watching TV”, she says. “Don’t you have
homework or something?”, I ask. “I’m done with it, I’m watching TV now”, she says. “And your sister?”, I
ask, still standing by the doorstep. “She’s in her room doing who knows what. You know how she is with
her space”, she says, rolling her eyes. Her sister and her fight all the time! “Can I come in?”, I ask. “Are
you a vampire now? Since when do you ask for permission to come in here?”, she says with the most
innocent smile in the world. “Lock the door Ngqa, it’s late. Later”, she says and runs off back to the TV I
guess.

I lock the door and take a deep breath. I know every corner of this house like I built it, so I know exactly
where to go. I knock gently and that familiar voice screams “Go away”. I knock again and she screams
“I’m gonna kill you, leave me alone!”. I knock again and I’m sure she threw something against something
because of the sound that follows. The door flies open and I can tell she means war but she brakes when
she sees it’s me. She stands, one hand still on the door handle, with her jaw dropped. I’m sure I’m the
last person she expected to see.

I wish she knew how beautiful she is without make up on. I know she hates the birthmark that runs
across her cheek that’s why she’s always concealing it, but I always thought it made her more beautiful. I
can’t believe she opened the door in just a thin lacy bra that shows her nipples and matching panties.
Those hips remind me of how she rides and I know exactly how that stomach curves in when she arches
her back. And those thighs, hell, I know how they grip hard when she reaches her seventh heaven. And
her skin is so flawless I could eat her up. ‘Damnit Ngqabutho, remember what you came for!’, I chastise
myself in my head. I think I’m staring so I look away from her body and at her face.

I can tell she’s been crying, her eyes are still glassy and the streams down her face haven’t completely
dried. I’m not sure whether I should ask what’s wrong or just get on with my program and tell her what I
came to say. How do I begin to shout at her when she’s looking this broken? She’s looking up at me with
those big eyes and wet eye lashes. Gods she looks so innocent you wouldn’t believe!

“Ngqabutho Nxumalo”, she says. “Hey Jacks”, I say. I step in and the door shuts behind me.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

NGQABUTHO NXUMALO

When the masses hear royalty they think crowns and gold, wealth and power, knights and servants and
heck some even envision a king sitting on a golden throne. They think of heaven complete with pearly
streets and golden gates. And although royalty is all that's beautiful and more it remains a burden. It's a
curse neatly hidden within a blessing. So all the world sees is the glorious blessed exterior and only
those who live within know the weight of the curse. From the very beginning, for better or for worse, I
was born into a hearse.

But push the fairy tale definition of royalty aside and say it like it is. Being royalty means fighting.
Fighting wars you don't understand half the time but know you must win against all odds. Fighting the
urge to be normal so you don't go down in history as a disgrace. Fighting siblings and their mothers’
witchcrafty as they all have their eye on the throne. Fighting your ancestors because you made a
covenant with them on the mountains and vowed to abide by certain laws which you have been
breaking one by one. But the hardest fight there is is with yourself. Fighting to stay true to yourself
whatever that means. Trying to be yourself then quickly realising that you are living in an era where
your opinion doesn't count and set rules prevail all the time. Fighting love and getting confused along
the way, making friends enemies and enemies friends. Not knowing the difference between right and
wrong anymore. That's royalty, not this Prince rescues Princess with just one kiss and they live happily
ever after nonsense.

But that's the order of life, isn't it? Royalty or not? It's a game of crazy eights. It's all Kings and Queens
on a winning streak until someone plays the Joker and you don't have an Ace to block it so you pick five
and try to stay in the game.

So yes I was born royalty and it got me everything I have but if I was allowed to resign I would pen that
resignation letter right now. I want to be like all my friends playing soccer for colleges overseas and the
ones at varsity doing what varsity boys do. I'm done playing royal pureness and if I'm to be labelled a
bad boy or a jerk or a fuckboy then so be it! Too many people just exist and very few actually live. From
now on I choose to live.
You know the mind is an interesting place. You think one thing then a second later you think something
else, then you not sure which thought to go with.

The words of the seer are ringing in my ears. She said Lwezi is all I have but try as hard as I can to
decode that I can't reach a meaningful answer. The seer said a lot of things, things I might have
appreciated had I been in a better state of mind. She spoke of forgiveness and things happening for a
reason and all that ‘love is pure, love is kind’ shebang. Then she said the seasons are changing and a war
looms so I must stand up tall because I'm the only hope the Matombo throne has. Her words 'you may
not sit on it, but you will be the one to save it'. She also said many other things that didn't make sense,
like how I should heed my mother's dying words and that I may be a prince but the crown is not mine.

She kept emphasising on forgiving Lwezi. “The time is near and when answers are bared, blood will
flow. Only Lwezi can save you, do not abandon her. She's all you have”, she said. Believe me I want to
forgive her if only I knew how to trust her after this. I've been betrayed before and it was hard enough
putting all my trust in her, then she turned around and broke that. I know she loves me and I love her
more than anything but love on its own is not enough.

Jackie finally told me what my family did to her. I wish she had told me then but I know my family can be
terrifying so I don't blame her for keeping quiet and dying from the inside. I hate them for what they did
to her and for keeping it from me. How dare they! Bloody hypocrites all of them. They destroyed the girl
I loved. Look at her now, dishing out her cookie like she's the gingerbread man. But something about
her story doesn't add up! She needed me then and I left her so do I leave her again now? I'll confront my
father, all secrets must come out to play!

The pain in my heart keeps piling. I'm sure all these girls hate me.

Jackie. I wasn't there for her when she needed me and when she pushed me away, instead of holding
her I fell back. I should have probed harder and made her tell me everything, maybe we could have
worked things out! So she hates me and I get it.

Ndoni. As for that one may the spirits forgive me. I can't. She despises my village and that crosses the
line for me. I'm the future guardian of our village. I am my village. And so she might say ‘you not like the
rest of them’ and think it's a compliment. She doesn't realise I am them and when she despises them
she despises me. So she can go and love herself.
Lwezi. She expects me to be her prince in shining armour. If she watched TV series I would say she's
taken Merlin too seriously and thinks I'm Prince Arthur and she's Gwen and we are in Camelot! I have no
problem with loving her, I love loving her but I'm her boyfriend not her saviour. I can't always give, I
need her too sometimes! Leaving her there must have killed her but because of the rage I had inside me
I had to leave. As mad at her as I am, I find myself worrying about her. Where did she go to? Did she go
back to her desolate home? Who am I kidding? I love her, I want her, I want to see that pretty face
looking innocently at me. I want my baby right now. To hold her in my arms, ruffle her hair and tell her
how much I love her. Her stupid phone isn't going through, reception is a nightmare down there.

It hurts so bad, everything inside me is screaming mercy, mercy please but the mask on my face remains
fixed. I'm a man, ain't I? I can't cry, I have to find another way to deal. I want to cry but the world can't
have that, and my father isn't here to allow me. I am a man and men don't cry!

It's an inferno in this head of mine today. So many thoughts, so many questions but no answers.
Yesterday, I won't think about yesterday.

************

I open the door that used to lead to Lwezi’s bedroom. My poor baby. She loved this room with
everything and would jump on that bed. It's not much but to her it was everything. I took that away
from her, didn't I? I loved her wrong, forgot the ‘no glove no love’ that had been drilled into our heads
in EFL (Education For Living) classes in Upper Six. Maybe I've been looking at this the wrong way.
Maybe I'm to blame for all of this. I've always known that Lwezi trusts me with her life. I should have
taken better care of her. What have I done to my sweet little angel? Why does everything I touch turn
to stone.

I'm lost and sniffing back tears when my phone rings. It's Cass’s mum and she's hysterical. She can be
such a drama Queen and I haven't exactly forgiven her for throwing Lwezi out. “Ngqa, my baby is dying.
Please come, he’s dying and he keeps asking for you!”, she cries into the phone. I love Cass’s mum but
sometimes she confuses me. One. She should stop calling Cass a baby! Two. I know she's in Cass’s
hospital room but she's still saying ‘he's dying’. That will make him panic. Three. She needs to learn to
calm down.

I take a deep breath before I respond to the million “Ngqa are you there?.... Hello?...Ngqaaaaa!”. “I'm
here. Where are you?”, I ask. “Castiel is dying, my only baby is dying, he…. “, she goes on. “Tell me
where you are. I'm leaving the house now”, I say. “We’re at Mater Dei and….”, she says. I hang up and
run out. Leaving both the garage door and the main gate open, I drive like I'm in Formula one. Potholes
or no potholes the speed remains above legal limits.
Finding his room takes some time but I get directed eventually. He's lying on the bed sobbing. His father
is standing quietly, leaning against the wall and his mother is crying and harassing his hand. As I walk in
he's looking my direction but his eyes don't move with me. His feet are badly swollen and if he knows
I'm here, he's not showing it.

“Young blood”, I say approaching his bed. “Ngqa? Are you here? Where are you?”, he says. I take his
hand and something inside me just snaps. I can't stand seeing him like this. He doesn't deserve any of
this. “It's so dark. I can't see anything. Ngqa help me”, he says. As tears roll down his face, my own
drop on his hand. “What did the doctors say?”, I ask, turning to my uncle. “They can't figure out what's
wrong with him. They are running more tests”, he responds. “You know what that means, uncle”, I say.
He looks down at his feet.

His mum is still crying and being melodramatic. I wish she would shut up already. “With all due respect,
can you please step outside? I need an audience with the Nxumalos”, I say to her. “I'm not going
anywhere. I'm not leaving my baby”, she says. Oh dear heavens this woman will drive me insane. But
ok whatever let her stay.

“Why did you let it come this far uncle?”, I ask. Silence. “You knew that his problem and the outbursts
were not normal. You sent him to instutions and doctors and to churches. You knew that wouldn't help
him but you did it anyway, why?”, I ask. Silence. Gosh I hate speaking alone! Ok now the wailing and the
‘he's going to die’ is beginning to piss me off. “Please get out mamncame (aunt?)”, I say. “No
Ngqabutho, how dare.. “, she says. “I wasn't asking. Step outside”, I say. She stares daggers at me and
says a mxm but walks out anyway. I'll apologise later.

“Bamncane (uncle) your son’s life is in danger. Tell me the truth. What went wrong? What angered the
Nxumalos so much?”, I hope he can tell from my stance that I'm not playing. When it comes to Cass I
don't play! “You will not talk to me like that Ngqabutho!”, he snaps at me. “I’m sorry but this is not the
time for proper tones and respect. It's a matter of life and death!”, I'm trying to stay calm but they are
trying me. They are trying me Lord, your people are trying me!

“I command you to tell me the truth!”, I channel the prince in me. “You do what? Did I hear right? Who
do you think you are?”, he says. I see what he's doing. Deflecting. Sorry I'm not falling for it. He will
give me answers and if it means burning a bridge to get to them then let it burn that bridge! “Who do I
think I am? I don't think, I know who I am. I'm Ngqabutho Nxumalo, son of Nqobizitha Nxumalo your
chief. I'm the crown prince and by virtue of being a Nxumalo you are bound by our laws to answer to
me. So I'll ask again. What… did… you… do?”, I ask, slowly, maintaining eye contact, trying not to
budge. He sighs loudly.
“Very well then crown prince if you must know. Castiel wasn't offered to the ancestors at birth. We had
his umbilical cord discarded in the bin. We didn't want him associated with those things…. Umm also we
didn't strengthen his head (inkanda) we didn't want him associated with all those bad spirits and
demons”, he says. It’s his voice pronouncing the words but those are definitely his wife's words! I feel
my blood run cold. He threw the umbilical cord in the bin, he omitted crucial rituals all because he was
suddenly too good for our customs? “Wow. I don't believe this! So you knew all this but you kept quiet
and watched Cass suffer year after year? From hospital to hospital and people thinking he's crazy. How
many schools did he have to change because he had an outburst and everyone called him names? You
knew this but you chose not to fix it? You let it get this far and still you are doing nothing! ”, I swear I
want to hit him right now. I'm so angry at him I can't even hide it. “Ngqabu…”, he tries to say reaching
for my hand. “No bamncane don't! Look at him? Look at his feet? He's in pain! He's gone blind
bamncane and it's all your fault! If he dies I swear! Better start asking your ancestors for help. Oh wait,
you are above your ancestors, I keep forgetting”, I yell at him without meaning to. He looks down.

I pace, I need a minute to calm down and think. Cass’s mum walks in and I'm so not in the mood. I
know disregarding tradition was her idea! But it's not her that's pissing me off. I'm gravely disappointed
in my uncle for letting her influence him like that. Him of all people should have known better! His
father was a chief for crying out loud!

“I'm taking Cass to the village right now. I need to get him to the mountains before it's too late”, I say.
“No you are not taking my baby anywhere!”, she says. “Let's wait for the doctors to tell us what's wrong
then decide from then”, uncle says. “Are you kidding me? Open your eyes and see what's wrong! How
can you not see?”, I'm yelling but I don't mean to. “No Ngqabutho it's enough now. We won't be
disrespected by you! You are not taking Castiel anywhere! You hear me?”, she says, hands on waist and
‘I'm the parent here’ attitude. “I'm not asking. I'm taking Cass to the village right away and for the sake
of all that's good, stay out of my way!”, I'm done reasoning with them.

“Hey young blood. It's me, Ngqa. I'm here now and you will be alright. Stay strong for me alright? We'll
get through this”, I say, wiping his tears the way father wipes mine when I cry.
“Come...Easy….Sorry…That's it”, I lift him up into my arms. I think he's on a cement diet because damn
he's heavy. “Put him down Ngqabutho Nxumalo!”, she shouts at me. “Let him be”, my uncle says
holding his woman back. At least one of them has a brain now. I'll apologise for my disrespect some
other time, for now my cousin brother needs me. “It burns Ngqa”, Cass says. The pitch of his voice is
spearing my heart. “You will be fine. I got you”, I assure him.

I'm glad no one says anything to me as I walk out with a patient because I'm in a foul mood. Uncle will
take care of the paper work, I'm sure. I always leave my car in the city because the road to Matombo is
very rough and rocky. But Cass means so much more to me than the suspension of my car. He is my
young blood and I would be damned if anything happened to him. I might be labelled disrespectful but I
did what I had to. I had to prince up and take care of mines.