Barbara Mhangami-Ruwende

 

Dinga   

(from the forthcoming novel, “I Did not Ask to be Born”) 

“Dinga has asked me to marry him.”

Khethiwe glanced at me as though I had just announced that Popi our dog, had birthed a goat. She sucked her teeth, and vigorously rubbed soap onto ubaba’s white shirt, scrubbing it and dunking it into the dish of opaque water vigorously like she was trying to drown it.

“He says he wants me to have his baby”.

“I hope you are not pregnant wena Khohlwa! Because ubaba will skin you alive.”

“I am not pregnant lema! Heish, why do you have to always think the worst?”

Khethiwe snorted, and started humming. As she scrubbed the dirt- streaked collar of the shirt, a bead of sweat formed at her temple. It was hot and although we were washing under the shady trees, the air was still and the hillocks spat back the heat from the sun, making the place unbearable. The trees drooped from thirst and a few dragonflies darted onto the muddy water on the riverbed.

I looked at Khethiwe, getting impatient. Her bare back glistened with sweat.

“Wena I am talking to you! Why are you ignoring me?”

Khethiwe dropped the shirt and soap into the metal basin. She placed her soapy hands onto her waist and, her chest heaving. Her eyes cut into me and I looked away, regretting the decision to confide in her.

“Khohlwa, I have always known that they dropped you on your head at birth. Yes, that is why you are mad. Why you choose to waste yourself on a mongrel like Dinga is beyond me. But that you would consider marrying him is proof of your craziness.”

“Enough! You forget I am not your age mate. Mind how you talk to me else I will beat the salt out of you!”

Khethiwe cackled, smirked and carried on washing clothes. She picked up on her humming.

“Khethiwe please. I need your help. I need you to tell umama so she can tell Aunti and them.”

“Whose help? Me, help you to ruin your life? I don’t think so. Give that task to someone else. In fact, tell umama yourself.”

“Khethiwe tell me why you dislike Dinga so much. He tries to be good to you. The sweets, perfumes and creams he brings you from his travels and still you are mean to him. Why?”

“I don’t hate Dinga wena. I just know that he is wrong for you. Ubaba will never accept him. Wena you don’t even know his people. Months and months together and you have no idea where he gets the money he spends on you or where he vanishes to for weeks on end. He has no respect for you because he doesn’t even trust you enough to tell you these things. I don’t trust him Khohlwa and neither should you.”

“But I love him”.

“No, you don’t. You think you love him because you are drawn to his brokenness. You and umama are exactly the same! You think you can fix him and just because he cries out your name as he screws you, you think he worships you, and you think that you have some sort of power.”

“Forget it! I shouldn’t have told you anything! How dare you compare me to umama?”

“Well it’s the truth.”

I wanted to hurt Khethiwe so badly I said the only thing I knew would sting her.

“At least I am not sick like you. I would rather have a man crying out my name as he finishes than to rub my golo against another woman’s. Disgusting.”

Khethiwe moved so quickly that I did not have time to put my hands up against the blows she threw at my face. I staggered back, tasting blood. My lip was bleeding and I could feel it swelling. I was shocked. Khethiwe had never attempted to hit me back the few times that I had slapped her for being insolent. She was so enraged that her nostrils flared and her cheeks smoldered.

“Don’t you ever say such a thing to me again.”

Her lips were barely moving as she glowered at me. I wiped my lip and started washing in silence. Khethiwe wrung out the clothes she had rinsed in clean water and hung them on the bushes to dry. I watched her as she moved, enervated by her anger. She snatched up the empty pail and bowl and walked briskly to the riverbed. She was pretty, with a tight body. She was elegant and she was not even aware of it. I watched her rhythmically dig, tossing bowls of sand over her shoulders as she crouched in the riverbed. She dug a little longer then scooped up a bowl full of water and drank long, tilting her head back. Water flowed down the sides of her mouth soaking her wrapper knotted just above her breasts. Quickly she filled the pail and trudged back up the steep hillock to where I was. She emptied the pail into the metal tub. I felt horrible for hurting her.

“Khethiwe I am sorry.”

“Come let’s wash and get out of here. I am cooking today.” She mumbled sullenly.

I had finished rinsing and hung the clothes on some nearby bushes. I knew she had forgiven me and I felt better as I joined her at the tub to wash.

“Here, scrub my back.”

Khethiwe handed me the rough stone and soap. I lathered her back and scrubbed gently. The sun was lower in the sky and it had started to cool down. We sat down on the rock face. I felt the warmth of the rock on my backside. Both of us rubbed our heels on the rock surface, occasionally pouring water to wash away the dead skin cells sloughing off. I looked over at Khethiwe, admiring how strong and honest she was. I wished I had her courage.

As we rinsed the soap off our bodies the drooping trees began to come alive.

“Please talk to umama for me Khethiwe. If you do me this favor I promise I will never ask you for anything ever again.”

She snorted her disbelief and looked up at me.

“I will tell her. But that doesn’t mean I support what you are trying to do”.

“Thank you. You’re the best!”

Khethiwe rolled her eyes and as we dried off and got dressed, she muttered something about Dinga having serious bedroom skills that had turned my brain into chicken feed.

We both laughed and folded the now dry laundry. We packed it into the two tubs and gathered the rest of our stuff and headed down the hill towards home. As we passed the homesteads women were already lighting cooking fires for the evening meal. The familiar smell of wood smoke permeated the air. It was comforting. We greeted everyone as we made our way past the homes until we got to our own home.