<\/p>\n
The first time he made love to me, I was fifteen and Simon was eighteen. He visited me in Nkayi a few times before he introduced me to his uncle Mabhena and his family. Mabhena had two wives who were always fighting. Their children always got involved and the entire household would be chaos and noise. Mabhena would shake his head ruing the day he took on a second wife.<\/p>\n
\u201cIsithembo is the fastest and most efficient route to an early grave for a man.\u201d He muttered.<\/p>\n
On my first visit to his uncle\u2019s home, I sat perched on the edge of a sofa in the sitting room and pretending that I was not disturbed by the racket coming from the kitchen. His wives had already come and greeted me along with seven children ranging in ages from about thirteen to a-few-months-old baby. They jostled and shoved as they waited to shake my hand. They had shuffled their way out of the sitting room, like cattle at the dipping post, shutting the door to the total anarchy in the kitchen.<\/p>\n
Mabhena looked haggard slouched in a sofa with his belly sitting on his lap. His bottom lip looked heavy as it hung open exposing a neat row of yellowed teeth. Simon responded with mirth.<\/p>\n
\u201cUncle, you made your bed and now you must lie in it.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was a loud clatter from the kitchen, as though someone threw a metal plate onto the floor. I jumped up, then quickly sat down. Simon roared with laughter and his uncle joined in. I did not see anything funny about the situation so I knew they were laughing at me.<\/p>\n
I glared at Simon, got up and left the room. A few minutes later he found me standing under a mango tree at the back of the huge house. Mabhena had a borehole on his property so water for mango, orange, guava and peach trees was not a problem. He even had a lawn in front of the house and some beds bursting with yellow, pink and red flowers.<\/p>\n
\u201cI am sorry Thembi.\u201d<\/p>\n
He touched my cheek and I stepped back, looking around in panic.<\/p>\n
\u201cAh wena, they will see us. It\u2019s not proper.\u201d<\/p>\n
I crossed my arms and turned my face away from him. I was still smarting from having been laughed at.<\/p>\n
\u201cOK let\u2019s go to my room.\u201d<\/p>\n
He had a room in a cottage beyond the fruit trees, where he stayed when he visited. Now he was living with his uncle and helping him manage his businesses while he waited for his A- level results.<\/p>\n
\u201cWahlanya! Go to your room? No way. What will your people think of me?\u201d<\/p>\n
Of course, I wanted to go to his room and spend time alone with him. But this just seemed too whorish. His relatives would think I was a cheap girl, not marriage material and they would advise him not to take me seriously.<\/p>\n
\u201cThembi where else can we go to just sit and talk? If we are seen at the shops the village gossips will get busy, someone will tell your aunt and the whole thing will become a big story about you sneaking around with men.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou talk as if you really care about me. Or is it that you are just trying to find a way to get me to your room?\u201d<\/p>\n
Simon smiled, looking shy.<\/p>\n
\u201cBoth.\u201d<\/p>\n
We laughed and walked to his room.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour uncle is brave! To have two wives and their kids living in the same house? My aunt is a first wife and the second wife stays in the house in Bulawayo, eMpopoma. Here in the village, she has her hut at the homestead so when my aunt goes to the city she comes here. They are only ever in the same place when there is a ceremony or family gathering.\u201d<\/p>\n
Simon looked at me, a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is very sensible. That is exactly how I will arrange my polygamy.\u201d<\/p>\n
I pouted and punched him on the arm:<\/p>\n
\u201cHey wena! I don\u2019t want to be a polygamy wife uyezwa!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAh, but who says I will marry you?\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed as he dogged another punch and opened the door.<\/p>\n
I had never been in there before. In the middle was a single bed with blankets rumpled up.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou did not spread your bed.\u201d<\/p>\n
I faked disgust and started straightening the bedding.<\/p>\n
Simon came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I froze, listening to the swooshing sounds hammering in my ears. He pulled me to himself and I straightened up trying to pull away, but not convincingly.<\/p>\n
Simon kissed me just next to my ear and the sound made me shudder. I had never been with a man and he guessed this. He lay me on his bed and he kissed me gently until I became aggressive, demanding more depth. More than kisses. He was gentle and patient with me, asking me if I was alright the whole time as he undressed me. I stiffened for a moment when he entered me. But he kept still, sucking gently at my nipples until I moaned and wrapped my legs around his waist, rocking back and forth. He responded, matching my movements with his thrusts. The last thought I had as my body vibrated towards release was my aunt lecturing me about good girls with decorum not getting pregnant before marriage.
\n
\n
\nWe were now on the tarred road and the kombi picked up speed. The sun was coming up on my side and the warm rays filtered in through the window. Swirls of dust spiralled, catching the light as they floated in the air around us. There was a thin film of dust, like gauze covering the sleeping children and myself. It was then that I realized that there was a gaping hole on the floor of the kombi which was partially covered up with a piece of cardboard. The covering had moved, letting the dust churned up by the fast-moving wheels float into the car. On either side of the road, people were waving the kombi down, desperate for a lift in case the buses were late or did not come at all. In Nkayi there were only two buses that carried passengers to and from Bulawayo: Sihube and Ntubeni buses. Once after a visit to my aunt and uncle in Bulawayo, I had to spend a night in a parked bus at the Renkini Bus station in the city because it did not fill up. It took off for Nkayi the next day in the late afternoon after it was overloaded with people and their luggage. Travelling in this kombi was luxury compared to being on a bus, despite crunching bits of sand between my teeth. I coaxed the cardboard with my foot and covered the hole in the floor completely. This lessened the noise also.<\/p>\n
\u201cMama wake up!\u201d It was Suko nudging me not very gently with his elbow.<\/p>\n
\u201cStop it wena maan! Mxim.\u201d<\/p>\n
I must have dozed off because the sun was higher up in the sky. The younger man was sprawled across the middle seat. Only his jeans- covered knees were visible. He snored softly, sound asleep. The kombi had stopped and Simon and the driver were outside smoking. We had pulled into what looked like a growth point. The kombi was parked under a gnarled acacia tree. Its branches formed an umbrella under which women were setting up their things to sell on upside-down cardboard boxes which served as tables. Big candi-keke buns, freezits, sweets, matches, biscuits, air time cards, paper clips, sticks of cigarettes, snuff, Vick\u2019s vapor rub, Protector plus condoms, Vuka- Vuka love potion, Swanky Body Lotion, Geisha bath soap and many other things were displayed on newspaper tablecloths. Simon walked towards the car looking a little more relaxed than he had been the previous night. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing a silver watch on his left wrist. He smiled slightly as he slid the door open.<\/p>\n
\u201cPumanini!\u201d<\/p>\n
He sounded cheerful as he gave me his hand. I heaved myself up and felt his strength as he guided me out of the car.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow far have we gone baba?\u201d<\/p>\n
Suko sauntered around the car to where his father and I stood.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe are at West Nicholson now, so another three hours and we will be at the border.\u201d Simon glanced at his watch.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s ten o\u2019clock now and I suggest we all use the toilet and eat something.\u201d<\/p>\n
He pulled a stack of money from his back pocket.<\/p>\n
Khethiwe and Khohlwa stood on the other side of the car, stretching and looking towards the stores. Music was blaring from a speaker outside one of the stores adding to the general noise of buses and trucks hooting and blasting their own music. Vendors called out \u2013\u201c amabhanz, amaqanda, half-loaf- half-loaf\u201d- as they swarmed the parked buses lifting baskets and trays of boiled eggs and bread up to the windows.<\/p>\n
\u201cBaba are we going through Bulawayo?\u201d<\/p>\n
Khethiwe had walked round to us and had her hand held out to her father for some money.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are such a dunderhead\u201d, laughed Suko. \u201cWe passed Bulawayo a long time ago. We are near Beitbridge already.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShut up sihlama! You only know this because ubaba told you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cKhetiwe inhlamba?\u201d<\/p>\n
I scolded gently for her foul language.<\/p>\n
Simon handed her forty rands.<\/p>\n
\u201cGo the three of you to the store and buy bread and drinks for us including the two men, Vusa and Mpofu.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhich is which baba?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe young guy is Vusa and Mpofu is the driver.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAre they from Nkayi like us?\u201d<\/p>\n
Too many questions Khetiwe! I scolded.<\/p>\n
The girl did not know when to stop. She glanced at me sideways and turned to face her brother.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s go, fool!\u201d<\/p>\n
Khethiwe and Suko took off for the store. Laughing and shoving each other like a pair of puppies. Khohlwa followed them walking as though she had big rocks tied to her ankles. I felt a flare of irritation which died as quickly as it was born. I would not let her spoil my joy. I watched them as I leaned against the car. I adjusted the quiye on my head, pulling the fabric over my ears and tightening it. I would get my hair plaited nicely in Jo\u2019burg and I would buy some new dresses. Things were cheap there. All the women I knew who had been there and back returned with beautiful clothes and things for the home. Me, I wanted a cellular phone also. Simon had one and I know Khethiwe had one that she thought no one knew about. I also knew that she had been sneaking out to see that lout her father had forbidden her to see. It was a wonder she did not get pregnant. This had been my biggest fear and thankfully it had not happened.<\/p>\n
\n
\nMy aunt found me at the back of the house on my knees by the compost heap. I was vomiting my insides out. The retching was so violent it brought me to my knees and that is how she found me looking like a dog on all fours, eyes red, tears on my cheeks and vomit on my mouth. I started crying as soon as I saw her, partly relieved that finally the secret was out and also because of the look of horror on her face.<\/p>\n
\u201cThembi.\u201d<\/p>\n
The plea and disbelief in her voice made my heart sink. I had disappointed her beyond measure. She knew it from the way I cried. I had had sex and I was pregnant. For two months, I had been vomiting every morning on the compost heap. I was careful not to soil my school uniform and I would swirl my mouth with water before heading out to school. I think she had suspected something was wrong because I stopped eating well and I was always tired and falling asleep as soon as I sat down. She had asked me once if I was alright and I had told her I just had a tummy ache from eating too many makhemeswane. Too much of the sweet and sour fruit could cause horrible stomach aches as it fermented in there.<\/p>\n
\u201cThembi what have you done?\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt so ashamed. I wished my aunt would let me stand up so I didn\u2019t feel like a worm. Having her stand over me like that made me feel like a cheap two cent whore. I just knelt there crying and heaving until my entire breakfast of porridge had been ejected. I wished she screamed at me or beat me, anything but not this stony silence vibrating with the question: what have you done?<\/p>\n
I had done what my mother before me had done. I had fallen pregnant outside marriage and when her body was not ripe enough to bring out a child. She had bled while giving birth to me. That is how I ended up raised by my aunt. The story is that my mother had refused to marry my father who had accepted responsibility for the pregnancy. She had stubbornly said she did not love him and that he had forced himself on her. \u201cUyisidlwengu!\u201d She screamed every time she saw him.<\/p>\n
\u201c He is a rapist!\u201d<\/p>\n
He was forty-two years old.<\/p>\n
Every time she was taken to his home she ran away. This went on until she was in her seventh month and her family gave up and let her stay and have her baby. She was 13 years old. My mother\u2019s sister Ntombi was married to a man, Silas Mapondo from Nkayi and when she heard that her youngest sister had died and left a new born, she came and offered to take me as her own. My grandparents were relieved because they were too old and poor to take good care of a baby. Also, my aunt had been married two years and did not have a child of her own yet. This was not good. She named me Thembinkosi because she trusted that God would one day give her a child and there I was.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cThembi, Sukuma! Get up and let\u2019s go into the house.\u201d<\/p>\n
I got up slowly, feeling a little dizzy and walked gingerly towards my aunt\u2019s outstretched arms. I collapsed against her and cried.<\/p>\n
\u201cMama I am sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShhh! Let\u2019s go in and talk.\u201d<\/p>\n
My uncle was in Nkayi and he sat opposite my aunt and I as I told them who was responsible for the pregnancy. The Mapondo elders were summoned to an emergency Indaba, and it was decided at that meeting that I would be accompanied to the Mabhena\u2019s and left there since their son had damaged me. They would then send a kinsman to the Mapondos to tell them if they would marry and pay lobola plus damages, or if they would pay damages and return me to my family.<\/p>\n
I was taken to the Mabhenas by my uncle\u2019s sister nakaVelile. We set off at dusk so that the darkness coveedr my shame. People would ask too many questions or guess what was going on if they saw an elderly woman with a young girl carrying a bag and looking like she had swallowed a small watermelon. NakaVelile carried my bag of clothes: two dresses, two skirts, two tee shirts and some panties. My aunt told me that I could not take more than this because by custom it was now the Mabhena\u2019s job to take care of me so I could not carry what I had from in my father\u2019s house to another man\u2019s house. My aunt gave me an ntsaru and I wrapped the piece of cloth around my waist. I tied a qhiye on my head.<\/p>\n
As we walked to Mabhena\u2019s house at the growth point, nakaVelile talked on and on like a demented crow: wha-wha-wha-wha.<\/p>\n
I listened with one ear. I was worried sick about what was to become of my life. What if Simon refused the pregnancy? What if he lied and told his people and mine that I was not a virgin when he slept with me, meaning that the pregnancy may be someone else\u2019s? What if I died having the baby, like my mother? What about school?<\/p>\n
\u201cAunti, what about my schooling?\u201d<\/p>\n
Panic threatened to squeeze my heart to stillness.<\/p>\n
NakaVelile stopped in her tracks and looked at me as though I had sprouted a pair of horns on my forehead.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are talking about school, when you should be praying that this boy accepts you and the pregnancy so you can become respectable? Instead of worrying about the dishonor that your shameless whoring has brought upon our family you are dreaming stupid dreams about school?\u201d<\/p>\n
Shame dragged my head down and made my feet heavy.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou should be thinking about how you are going to be a good wife, actually praying that this boy gives you that chance, and how you will be a good mother. That\u2019s it.\u201d<\/p>\n
We arrived at the Mabhenas. One of the children, Lizwe opened the gate. He knew me and he greeted us courteously. He asked us to come in. But tradition says that we wait at the gate while an elder comes to give us permission to enter. If there are no adults then you wait at the gate until they return from wherever they have gone to. I had been to this house several times without ceremony, but my pregnancy changed the rules. It felt like I was no longer Thembi. I was someone else. I was either an impostor bringing the trouble nestled in my womb or I was a Makoti, an in-law. Soon we would find out which.<\/p>\n
Mabhena himself came to the gate. As soon as he set eyes on me his face became an inscrutable mask. Like those scary wooden masks traditional dancers wear at ceremonial dances. My heart sank and the smile on my lips shrivelled up and scurried away.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe Mapondos have sent me to bring you – the Mabhena\u2019s- the fruits of your labour\u201d.<\/p>\n
NakaVelile\u2019s face was an ominous thundercloud.<\/p>\n
\n
\nMabhena opened the gate and stood back for Aunti and me to enter. He led the way to his house and into his living room. Once we were seated, he on his own sofa and my aunt and I on the other one, he called his two wives. I had seen both of them peering at us through the kitchen window as we made our way to the front door. Now they came in faking surprise. They greeted us and they acted as though they had never seen me before. As if I was not the girl who had cooked with them and plait their children\u2019s hair. For now, I was a stranger and Simon would decide whether I remained so or not. Lizwe was sent off to call Simon from his room. While we waited for him, tense formal greetings and questions about the families\u2019 health tumbled around in the room, making me dizzy. Saliva pooled in my mouth and I had to spit but I had forgotten my handkerchief. These days all I did was spit into a hanky. If I swallowed I would gag and vomit.<\/p>\n
Simon walked into the room and I forgot about the need to spit. He was totally unprepared to see me sitting on the sofa with my head wrapped in a quiye and my Aunti next to me. But from the look of things he knew immediately what was going on.<\/p>\n
\u201cSimon, do you know this young woman?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mabhena did not even look at me but pointed in my direction all the while scrutinizing Simon as though the answer to his question was a tiny speck on his face.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, I know her baba. This is Thembinkosi wako Mapondo. She is my girl and I want to marry her.\u201d<\/p>\n
Simon looked at his sandaled feet, his hands folded in his lap.<\/p>\n
Mabhena bellowed, \u201cYou want to marry her? With what money? Do you have any idea how much it costs to take a wife? Do you know the responsibility of having a family? What about your studies?\u201d<\/p>\n
NakaVelile the thundercloud leaked a few drops, threatening a deluge. \u201cIf he knew where to find a woman\u2019s hidden parts and was able to plant his seed, then surely he is old enough to be a husband and head his own family.\u201d<\/p>\n
I kept my head down but could not help myself. I peered at Simon. I needed to see his reactions. I felt as though I was alone floating on a log on the Shangane River when it was swollen from the December rain, insignificant and on the verge of perishing.<\/p>\n
\u201cBaba, I love Thembi and she is carrying my child. I am willing to do whatever it takes to be there for her and the child.\u201d<\/p>\n
NakaVelile the thundercloud dissipated and the brewing storm gave way to clear sky. Her whole body gave in to relaxation and melted into the sofa. The frown and wrinkles walked off her pretty face and the curtains over her eyes drew open.<\/p>\n
The room was silent. We all waited to hear Mabhena\u2019s next utterance.<\/p>\n
\u201cI am proud of you my son. You are a real man now. He puffed up his chest and crowed. Yes, a real man takes responsibility for where his cattle have grazed and he takes ownership of the consequences if they have grazed on someone else\u2019s pasture. The Mabhena livestock went grazing on the Mapondo pastures and now we must, like men take responsibility. Mama, you may leave our wife with us. She will be in good hands. We will send a message to your people with due haste.\u201d<\/p>\n
As if by magic Mabhena\u2019s wives appeared with trays carrying drinks and food. The children brought us a dish of water to wash our hands.<\/p>\n
I looked up at Simon and he winked at me grinning like he had stumbled on a wad of money on the road. What I felt for him then was deep gratitude for rescuing me from perishing on the Shangane River all alone. I had never doubted his love for me. But sometimes love and courage are not companions. Nothing mattered to me from that moment on, except to be the best wife for him.
\n
\n
\nSuko and Khethiwe walked back to the car, balancing bottles of soft drinks and loaves of bread.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are struggling with all that by yourselves, where is Khohlwa?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s coming. She is in the toilet.\u201d<\/p>\n
Khethiwe\u2019s tone with me was rough. I would need to take care of this when we got to Jo\u2019burg. No matter what she thought she was becoming, I was still her mother and she was growing wings. It was time to clip them. It is not a good thing when children grow wings.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs she Okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
Simon took a bottle of Fanta and Coke and a loaf of bread from Khethiwe.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe is fine, baba.\u201d Her response to her father was different. She was always polite with him, gentle almost. This bothered me in a way it shouldn\u2019t have. I don\u2019t know but it was, as though she was angry with me for weaning her from the breast. Because that was when I became a nobody and her father became everything.<\/p>\n
Simon walked over to where Vusa and Mpofu stood. They were each puffing on a cigarette under a tree that looked as old as the world. He strode back and took a Coke for himself. Suko and Khethiwe had moved to the other side of the car. They used the bonnet as a table and were busy mauling the other loaf of bread, hungrily chewing chunks of it and washing it down with their drinks. Simon came and stood next to me, taking long gulps from his bottle.<\/p>\n
\u201cSuko Break off some bread for your mother and me. Why so greedy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry!\u201d<\/p>\n
Suko hurried around the front of the car with two chunks of bread on a newspaper. Suko and I had a special bond. I loved my girls but with Suko, it was different. It was more than love. More like adoration. I could imagine devastating sorrow if I lost Khohlwa or Khethiwe but I would go on. With Suko I could not even imagine life continuing if anything happened to him. Since he was born I worried about him constantly. Every time I looked at him my heart broke. I even had this recurring dream where I was putting him back into the womb to keep him safe and always with me. Simon would get angry when at three I still breastfed him. He told him I was damaging him. One day as my chubby baby, Suko, was climbing into my lap to nurse, Simon pulled him off by one arm, dangled him in the air and smacked him hard on his bare bottom. He told him if he ever saw him climbing into my lap like that again he would toss him in with the goats for the night. My Suko was terrified of goats at that age. I lunged at Simon, grabbing Suko but the look in his eyes stopped me dead in my tracks. That night Simon insisted that Suko sleep with Khethiwe and Khohlwa in the other hut. I cried myself to sleep.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Khohlwa appeared in the doorway of one of the stores and walked down the steps, off the verandah. She stepped gingerly around a thorny shrub and made her way to the car.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t finish that bread hey!\u201d she yelled to her siblings, quickening her steps. I watched Simon looking at her, wondering what he was thinking. I ached to know what he was thinking. Years and years of unasked questions staggered around in my head, like drunkards, tumbling and falling and getting up only to fall again.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe need to go now. You can finish eating in the car. Time is getting away fast.\u201d<\/p>\n
Simon signalled to the two men and soon we were all piled back in the car. The engine fired and with a plume of red dust billowing behind us, we left the bustling growth point and headed towards Beitbridge. The children next to me were chatting and arguing.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat funny tree is a what?\u201d Khethiwe threw out a question.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a baobab, dummy!\u201d Suko laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a funny-looking tree, with its thick trunk and branches that start way up. It looks like a woman with funny hair sticking up.\u201d<\/p>\n
Homestead after dusty homestead sped by as though they were moving with me inside the Kombi. Some of them looked deserted, thatch falling off, walls crumbling and no sign of life. Others\u2019 homes were alive, with half-naked children running to the roadside and waving happily. Every now and then the Kombi swerved big craters on the tarred road. Sometimes Mpofu saw the pothole too late and we would dip and fall back, insides shaking like a carton of Chibuku beer. Amarula and Syringa trees were scattered in the vegetation, springing up unexpectedly like they were shooting out of the ground.<\/p>\n
Mpofu slowed down, swerved gently and picked up speed again. I peered through my window and saw that he swerved to by-pass a donkey-drawn scotch cart trundling along the road. The lettering on the side of the cart were B.M.W. Suko laughed,<\/p>\n
\u201cShame. The poor guy has big dreams!\u201d<\/p>\n
He shook his head. Vusa in the middle row laughed also.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy man, if you own a BMW like that in Zimbabwe, you are a rich man. For many, even a bicycle is too expensive. And they go to work every day, coming out of a rented room because they will never be able to afford a house of their own. We are talking teachers and nurses here.\u201d<\/p>\n
Suko was quiet for a while. Then he asked Vusa.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo, do you live in Zimbabwe then?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI live here, there and everywhere my man.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence, like a blanket covered us once again. The monotony of a moving belt of green vegetation made me drowsy. Khethiwe and Khohlwa were also dozing off, heads tilted back onto the seat. The sun was high above us and it was hot. As if he heard my thoughts Vusa rolled down his window halfway and a refreshing breeze blew into the car. On the right side of the road was the skeleton of what was once a car. It was a rusty frame with a smattering of blue paint here and there. It reminded me of the toy-wire-frame cars that boys played with in Nkayi. I wondered if anyone had come out of that wreck alive. Then I spotted another carcass of a car on the other side, further along the road.<\/p>\n
\u201cThese cars probably collided, Suko muttered. \u201cThen caught fire and burnt until only the shells were left.\u201d<\/p>\n
The image of burning cars with people being roasted alive brought back horrible memories of people perishing in fire. I was not sure if they were real memories of things that happened or if they were remembrances of old dreams. But they were vivid. In the memory, I am five years old. Maybe six. There is a gathering at the neighbor\u2019s homestead, the Mabuzas. My family- Aunti and Uncle Mapondo- were not invited, which is strange because we are good neighbors, sharing salt and sugar and everything. I look through a hole in the cactus hedgerow that separates our homesteads and I am jealous that we have not been asked to celebrate and eat with them. I vow that I shall never greet nakaZuzo or tickle baby Innocent\u2019s toes when I pass her yard or meet her on the way to the farm. I will stop playing ara-wuru with Zenzo too.<\/p>\n
I notice that there is are men in camouflage uniforms there. They are carrying guns. I know that there is war because that is all the grown-ups whisper about, hands covering their mouths. I know it is a bad thing, this impi where people are fighting and killing one another over land. I have also seen convoys of thundering camouflage trucks snaking along the main road, churning up clouds of dust. It looks like a sand storm during Nyamavuvu, the month of winds. The grown-ups have told us that when a convoy is passing through the village, we must stand still, like in the game \u2018Statue\u2019. We have to stand still until all the cars have passed by because if we walk or run the soldiers in the cars will shoot us.<\/p>\n
\n
\nAs I peer through the hedge, I hear a blood-chilling scream. It is more like the cry of a wounded animal, like when the axe comes down on the neck of a cow and the head is not cut off immediately. The animal bellows and thrashes wildly. I am looking and the screams come from Zuzo\u2019s father, Mabuza. He is on fire and he is thrashing back and forth doing a strange and frightening dance as he screams and screams. He is attached to a chair and he is jumping up and down while the chair and he are engulfed in flames. I see Bongi, Zenzo and MaBaso the grandmother and all of them are watching. I cannot see their faces through the smoke from the now quiet Mazuza. He is just a pile, burning slowly. The smell in the air is sickening. The soldiers are just standing there, guns pointing in every direction they turn. Zuzo\u2019s mother screams like a wild cat and jumps onto the flames. They did not see her coming quietly through the gate. Even I did not see her until she jumps into the fire with baby Innocent on her back. Then I see Zenzo and Bongi running after their mother right into the fire. There they are dancing a horrible dance to the music of their screaming. Only Gogo MaBaso is left sitting. She cannot walk, even with a stick. Her hands are on her head. I cannot see her face but I know she is watching her family burn.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cMama wake up!\u201d<\/p>\n
You were crying in your sleep. It was Suko looking concerned.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat were you dreaming?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked around me, wiping tears from my face.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was just a silly dream that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n
Khohlwa and Khethiwe were asleep, both their mouths open. They looked like baby birds waiting for their mother to put food into their beaks.<\/p>\n
I had pins and needles in my left leg and I tried to stretch it out to ease the discomfort. It was still hot but the sun was now lower in the sky on the other side of the car. The Kombi slowed down and came to a complete stop. I peered out of the window and saw several large metal drums with horizontal white stripes painted on them with a long wooden bar across them. Off to the side were three police officers, two men in navy blue trousers and grey shirts with shiny buttons on their shoulders, and a woman in a blue dress with shiny buttons down the front. It was the police. All three officers were wearing caps with the ZRP badge on them. One of them was talking to Mpofu through the window and the woman walked around the car, inspecting. She peered through my window and I looked straight ahead, nervous. She paused for what felt like a lifetime, then proceeded slowly to the back, kicking the tires a few times. Then she reappeared at the opposite window and peered in again. Khohlwa looked straight at her. They locked eyes for a few moments before the officer talking to Mpofu signalled for him to proceed. The third officer lifted the wooden bar and we drove through.<\/p>\n
I was furious with Khohlwa. I suppressed the urge to reach across Suko and Khethiwe and slap her stupid face.<\/p>\n
\u201cKhohlwa are you insane? What do you think you were doing, challenging that policewoman with your eyes? Wahlanya?\u201d<\/p>\n
Vusa turned around slightly in his seat.<\/p>\n
\u201cMama don\u2019t worry yourself. That amaSwina are just as hungry as those mgodoyi mongrels in the villages that eat shit. Just a couple of rand bribe and they were grinning like hyenas.<\/p>\n
Khethiwe laughed loud and Suko giggled. Still, I wanted Khohlwa to answer me, the imbecile. Something about the way she pretended not to hear me made me want to hurt her. She was facing the window.<\/p>\n
\u201cKhohlwa, did you hear me ask you a question?\u201d<\/p>\n
The look she flashed me made me feel like a piece of dirt. I wanted to claw the haughtiness out of her. I wanted to trample to death that thing that made her think that she was better than me. I took deep breaths to stay calm. I unclenched my fists and looked out of the window at the blur of trees and people. The girl had a way of stealing my joy.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
I stayed at the Mabhenas until it was almost time for me to give birth. At first, I was given a room in the main house but as soon as Simon and the Mabhenas and the mediator went to pay my lobola and damages, I moved to the cottage with Simon. I stopped going to school and my belly grew bigger, as though it had been waiting for someone to claim and own the pregnancy before it expanded to let the world know that a baby was on the way. The shame I felt about having sex outside marriage evaporated, leaving me excited at the idea of being a mother.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Simon\u2019s A-level results came out and he passed all three of his subjects. He wanted to go to university but he was now a family man. Mabhena gave him a job managing the shops and helped him get a driver\u2019s license.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I was happy cooking for Simon and washing his clothes. We laughed and made love a lot. He was loving and attentive and he shared himself with me. Though he never wanted to answer many questions about his past or what happened to his family he did not mind me asking them. I found out more about his past when I went home to Auntie\u2019s to give birth. The custom is that you went back home to give birth and stayed there until the baby was about 3 months old. This was so that if anything happened to you or the baby during childbirth the in-laws could not be blamed for killing you. Such is the strange love-hate relationship between in-laws. Also, it is known that there is no rest for a woman in her husband\u2019s house. So, you went home to rest and be taken care of.<\/p>\n
I learned that Simon\u2019s father had died during the war and that his mother and grandmother raised him along with his sister Luba in Lupane. Knowing this made me feel closer to him than ever before. He and I understood loss and so we clung to each other, consoling each other and trying to fill those empty spaces left by those who had died when we were so young.<\/p>\n
My Aunti could not give me any more details about his family in Lupane, but I made a decision to find out more and to visit them and show them the baby.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
March 23, 1993- Khohlwa burst into the world with a vigour that broke my sixteen- year- old body. Labour was long and hard and they cut me so she could come out. For a week afterwards, I washed my hidden parts in warm saltwater. It was torture. I was breastfeeding and my nipples cracked and became sore. Tears streamed down my face as I nursed this baby I loved so much that I would go through the whole gruelling process again for her.<\/p>\n
\u201cStop crying! Did you think being a mother was playing amatope with your dollies?\u201d<\/p>\n
I would look at the baby, one hand supporting her head and wipe away my tears with the other. I would wince as she tugged at my raw nipple sucking and sucking with her eyes closed. My womb would contract and my body would be wracked with pain. I just cried and cried endless tears. Simon came to visit and he was confused at my seeming lack of joy at having a healthy baby. I would stare at him and cry. He was free to come and go as he pleased, his body did not ache and he did not have a gushing womb and sore nipples. He did not have to wake up at night to nurse a screaming baby, one who cried all night and slept all day. I resented him and the sight of him made me miserable.<\/p>\n
\u201cGive me the baby!\u201d<\/p>\n
My aunt would take her away after I fed her so that Simon and I could talk.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s walk outside Thembi. It will be good for you to get out into the fresh air for a bit.\u201d<\/p>\n
I would snarl at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you know about what is good for me?\u201d<\/p>\n
Simon was silent. I got up and we walked outside.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou look pretty\u201d.<\/p>\n
I did not answer. I just wanted things to go back to normal. I wanted to go back to school, to play with my friends, all of whom had been told to stay away from me since I was now a grown woman and would be a bad influence on them. But I was still the same Thembi on the inside. But what was on the inside didn\u2019t seem to matter. I was now a wife and mother and that was that.<\/p>\n
\u201cThembi don\u2019t go too far in case the baby wakes up.\u201d<\/p>\n
The tightness in my shoulders worsened.
\n\u201cYes mama\u201d.<\/p>\n
The tears would well up and I would look away so Simon could not see them. I couldn\u2019t explain to him that I felt as though I was being buried alive. There was something wrong with me, of this I was sure. Everything felt overwhelmingly heavy and I felt like running away.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Khohlwa was named a week after she came into the world because we did not have a name for her.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s name her Khohlwa,\u201d Simon announced one day. Auntie was holding the baby and she agreed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, Khohlwa so that her mother can forget the pain she is going through someday. So that the girl may always bring joy to her mother so that she may forget any hardships life throws at her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cForgetting is good\u201d, Simon nodded.<\/p>\n
And so Khohlwa was named. I did not care.<\/p>\n
After a month Aunti accompanied me back to the Mabhena\u2019s my matrimonial home. Simon came to carry the luggage: baby bath, bucket for washing nappies, and a huge suitcase. He brought Lizwe with him to help. We were welcomed with singing and dancing and a feast of chicken- and- rice, peanut butter greens, beans, scones and presents for baby Khohlwa. All the children wanted to hold the baby and Simon helped them by supporting the head. They cooed and pulled back her bonnet to marvel at her soft curly hair.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe has fat cheeks. Her mouth is so tiny. She has skin like peanut butter.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was feeling better. My body had healed and nursing Khohlwa was no longer painful. I smiled and laughed more. But I was no longer the same and I stopped waiting to feel like the old me again. I accepted my new life and even came to enjoy being Khohlwa\u2019s mother, especially when she smiled and made sounds. Soon she was sitting up and then crawling. I would carry her on my back as I did housework or put her on a blanket under a tree while I cooked on the fire outside.<\/p>\n
Simon was moody. He was always dissatisfied with something. If it was not the sorry state of the country it was Mabhena taking advantage of him or that my isitshwala was not cooked well enough.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis food is tasteless Thembi. Did you even put salt at least? The meat is tough, the sauce is like water\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
I just couldn\u2019t take it anymore.<\/p>\n
\u201cSimon, two days ago you said I used too much cooking oil and salt and that you did not want to die of high B.P. Now you are complaining that the food is bland. It seems nothing I do pleases you lately. Perhaps this is about something else, not food?\u201d<\/p>\n
To my horror I watched Simon transform. His face became a dark cloud and the energy around him shifted. I had just put Khohlwa down to sleep and was settling down opposite him so that we could eat together. I had never seen him look this way. He was inflating as though swallowing air. With a swift swipe of his arm, the dishes flew into the air, weightless like paper. They landed on the floor, a jarring clanging noise that set my teeth on edge. He reached across the table, grabbed me by the throat and squeezed. I did not move or scream but felt tears sting the inside of my eyes before they fell, giant drops falling onto my face. He stared into my eyes as though there was something in them that he was watching intently. He clenched the hand at my throat once and shook me.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t you ever dare to question me like that again.\u201d<\/p>\n
He shoved me and I fell on my back. I bumped my elbow on the cement floor. Pain shot through my arm but it was nothing compared to the pain I thought would constrict the life out of my thudding heart. I had never been afraid of Simon. I never thought there would be a day in my life that I would be scared of him, that he would ever hurt me. Not physically, but in a way that would change me forever. I don\u2019t even know how it changed me. But I did not mourn the loss of the girl Thembi through the birth of my daughter the way I mourned the loss of this something. Whatever this thing was it was gone, like a pebble tossed into the middle of the Shangane River at its fullest. There was no sense in trying to look for it. It was gone forever.<\/p>\n
I cowered face down on the floor, too scared to look up lest I provoke him again. But when Khohlwa stirred I gathered up courage to get up and tend to her. Simon was gone. But the reminder of what had happened was all over the kitchen, red sauce splattered on the walls and floor like someone had been careless with blood.<\/p>\n
He came back later that night. I lay in bed, stiff with fear and clinging to Khohlwa in the hope that he would not hurt me while I held the baby. I heard him cleaning up the mess and when he was done I felt him as he crawled into bed. I lay stiff as his body tried to curl into mine. It did not fit. He caressed my back until I started to relax. My body dropped into the valley of his but still, it did not fit. It would never fit. Hot tears fell into my pillow.<\/p>\n
\n <\/p>\n
The Kombi slowed down. We drove past a huge Coca-Cola sign that read: Welcome to Beitbridge.<\/p>\n
\u201cSesifikile! We are now at Beitbridge.\u201d<\/p>\n
Vusa made this announcement as he stretched and looked out of his window. The sun was low in the sky.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s about 3 pm now\u201d, he stated, looking at his cell phone.<\/p>\n
I looked out of my window at rows upon rows of cars.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll those buses, trucks and cars! Yoh, this place is huge.\u201d<\/p>\n
Suko looked around, amazed.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo, bra Vusa across from here is South Africa?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYebo. In fact, you can walk right across and in less than ten minutes you are on South African soil.\u201d<\/p>\n
I could tell that Suko\u2019s head was full of questions. He was quiet for a moment, looking outside, and thinking.<\/p>\n
For a moment Khohlwa looked excited, tapping her fingers on her thigh and taking in what was outside. She turned to look at me and immediately scowled turning away. I swore that if we were not in the company of Vusa and Mpofu I would give her an earful. Khethiwe whispered something to Khohlwa, who shook her head vehemently.<\/p>\n
\u201cKhethiwe what is it?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
I wanted to scream in frustration. I wanted to remind both the girls that I was still their mother. I made up my mind that once we were in Jo\u2019burg and settled, I would have a talk with them. If they could not show some respect, they would have to go. I would talk to Simon about this.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Maybe the change in environment would work a miracle on them. Maybe as soon as they got busy building their futures they would realize that life was complicated. They would be thankful for what they have. There was not much for young girls to do in Nkayi and this was probably what messed with their heads. I was sure that watching their peers leave and return with nice cars and money made them restless. I was happy that they now had this chance, even though they irritated me.<\/p>\n
The Kombi swung round and pulled up at one of the petrol garages. A man in uniform came by and spoke with Mpofu briefly. He started to fiddle with the side of the car. Simon got out and came to my window. He pulled the sliding door open.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cGet out and stretch your legs. We will be here for a while before we can get across. Then once on the other side, we have to wait some more. After that, we drive another six hours to Jo\u2019burg.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBaba, so we get there around midnight?\u201d Suko pushed against me and I slid over, opened the door and got out.<\/p>\n
\u201cK\u2019yatshisa! This place is hot. The sun is setting but it feels like we are baking.<\/p>\n
Vusa laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cMama, we are in the Limpopo Valley. It is very hot here. Hotter than Kariba or Hwange.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs this where the Limpopo River flows?\u201d Suko could not contain his excitement. Neither could the two girls who both had more energy.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes. In fact, we will drive across that bridge over there ahead of us. That is the Beit Bridge spanning the Limpopo. The River forms the border between Zimbabwe and South Africa.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere are so many buses here. All full.\u201d Suko was awed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is because there is nothing to stay for in Zim. Just look at how that election in July was stolen. People are leaving once again, even those who came back after they dollarized the economy.\u201d<\/p>\n
I could tell Vusa enjoyed sharing his knowledge with the children. What he did not seem to know is that their father was a politics man, so he spoke to them as if they knew nothing.<\/p>\n
I looked around at the mass of humanity spilling out of buses. In the heat, they shimmered before me like a mirage, all wobbly like melting candle wax. There were all ages: mothers with babies strapped to their backs, some on the hip, children, adults; even old men and women leaning over walking sticks as they got off the buses and stretched and formed a line by the very buses they had come off. They waited patiently while the drivers ran back and forth into a block of offices, carrying papers.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you have any money?\u201d I looked up at Simon and nodded. I reached into the Kombi for my handbag. I rummaged through the papers and pulled out a wad of dirty paper money and handed it to him.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow much is here?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know\u201d.<\/p>\n
I focused on the beads of sweat on the sides of his face. Small drops eating one other to form trickles that flowed down and fell on his collar. The front of his shirt was damp.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet me see\u201d. He took the money and muttered to himself as he counted. He was tense as he unfolded the soft fabric-like notes that had lost their crispy newness.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs everything alright?\u201d<\/p>\n
Yes, was the curt response. That was the end of that conversation. Stillborn on arrival. I knew not to press any further and all the questions I had about passports, where we would be staying in Jo\u2019burg joined the millions of other questions crammed in my head, unasked and therefore unanswered. Over the years I often wondered whether all men were like Simon. I wondered whether all men did not like questions from their wives, because they were happy to answer questions from other people, even other women. Just not their wives. I never asked this of other women my age. I suppose I got used to not asking and when I wanted to I did not know-how. But I felt strange like this, as though all those questions had moulded together like moist clay and there was just one huge question.<\/p>\n
He walked away at a brisk pace to Mpofu and Vusa, who were talking to a uniformed man who had emerged from the offices. They stood between the office and the car, out of earshot. They all shook hands and the man walked back inside.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cThis place is dirty.\u201d<\/p>\n
Khethiwe and Khohlwa were coming from the toilets. Both spat on the ground, their faces scrunched up in disgust.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe toilets are filthy you don\u2019t even know where to step in there. I am sure that is what the bottom of a pit latrine looks like.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cKhethiwe uyasinyanyisa, yuck! Now I have lost my appetite\u201d.<\/p>\n
Suko wrapped the piece of bread he was nibbling on back in the newspaper.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHa, you are not hungry my friend. Hand me that bread and I will show you what a hungry person does to food.\u201d<\/p>\n
Khohlwa lunged at the newspaper and Suko put his hand above his head, out of her reach. She laughed as she jumped up and tried to snatch it from him. Her laughter lifted my spirits. She was a beauty when she was happy, like now.<\/p>\n
\u201cLook at the baboons parading their red buttocks and blue balls like they are beautiful jewellery.\u201d<\/p>\n
We all looked to where Khethiwe was pointing and laughed. A cheeky troop of baboons marching up and down on the roadside picking at the scattered rubbish in search of food. Occasionally one of them found a morsel and the rest would mob him barking and hissing that he shares. I watched the big male strutting as he led the troop toward the buses. There was a cry of rage from a child who stood staring after a baboon that had made off with whatever he had been eating. He wailed, pointing in the direction of the fast disappearing baboons. His mother rushed to his side but he was inconsolable.<\/p>\n
\u201cShame poor boy,\u201d Khethiwe felt sorry for him but Suko howled with laughter.<\/p>\n
\u201cTime to go\u201d.<\/p>\n
Simon\u2019s call sounded a bit like the bark of the baboons. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief. Mpofu marched stridently to the driver\u2019s door and got behind the wheel. Vusa got in the third row and this time Simon sat there with him. Mpofu drove to a line and slowly, in stops and starts we drove across the bridge.<\/p>\n
I looked down at the greasy Limpopo River, a wide glimmering brown snake. Clumps of trees and bony twigs laced the banks. I thought of the stories we heard back in the village, of young men and women who perished in that river trying to get across to South Africa. Sometimes their bodies would wash up on the shores and there would be someone to bury. Other times it was just news that so and so had perished, probably eaten by crocodiles. That was the worst. A dead body is a proof that someone existed but is no more. But the absence of a body to bury can drive a person crazy, you wonder whether the person had ever really existed while hoping that they would show up. I closed my eyes and imagined the miserable ghosts that haunted those waters, the crocodiles and the bush around it. I prayed that those ghosts would haunt those who were responsible for making our country unlivable. I wished that every time those leaders closed their eyes to rest all they would see were half-eaten people and all the skeletons scattered in the bush, of people who had died with their backs to Zimbabwe, facing south. I hoped their ears would be full of screaming, wailing and groaning until they went stark raving mad.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The sun was setting as we pulled over to park the car, now on the South African side. There was tense silence because we were not done yet. This side was the critical one that would determine our fate. Mpofu got out of the car, an air of seriousness about him. He met an officer halfway between the Kombi and the offices.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s so clean this side. The buildings all look freshly painted.\u201d Suko spoke in a low voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cYa the Zim side is nasty. All that litter looks like a field of flowers.\u201d<\/p>\n
Khethiwe\u2019s eyes were wide open, drinking everything in.<\/p>\n
Mpofu came towards the car with the officer. Simon opened the sliding door and greeted him, making sure to be highly respectful and to use his deep Ndebele so that he would sound like he was a Zulu. He was so nervous I could smell the apprehension evaporating off his skin. The officer responded, unsmiling and peered into the car.<\/p>\n
\u201cNinjani?\u201d He greeted us but did not seem to care whether we responded or not. He counted us, looking intently into our faces, one after the other. He appeared to know Vusa and he did not count him. Abruptly he turned away from the car with Mpofu and Simon in tow. I could tell Simon was talking. He walked almost sideways like a crab, trying to get the full attention of the officer. Simon came back to the car but Mpofu and the officer walked on towards the offices. He stood by the front passenger door and I could see him tapping his foot, his fingers thrumming the top of the car. Something felt wrong. I felt uneasy but squashed the urge to go out and ask him what was going on. This forever not knowing and being led like a sheep from one event to the next was causing me isilungulela. I felt it burn its way up my throat and back down again.<\/p>\n
Mpofu stepped out of the office and walked towards the car, head down, and hands deep in his pockets as though it was cold and raining. Simon walked over to meet him before he got to the car. Both men turned towards the office building and although I was not able to see their faces, I knew that they were discussing.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wonder what is going on\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
My voice filled the silence in the space above and around us. I knew I was putting words to the question on everyone else\u2019s mind.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust formalities mama\u201d.<\/p>\n
This time Vusa\u2019s casual tone did not calm my insides.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know without passports it gets a bit tricky, but it\u2019s nothing for you to worry about at all.\u201d<\/p>\n
I glanced at the three children and I could tell that, like me, they did not find Vusa\u2019s words reassuring.<\/p>\n
Simon walked back to the car. Something was not right. His gait which was normally brisk and almost soldier-like was slow and unsure, like an old man. In fact, Simon seemed to have aged all of a sudden. No amount of deep breathes could still my wildly beating heart. Simon kept his eyes downward as he slid the door on Khohlwa\u2019s side open.<\/p>\n
\u201cKhohlwa my child, come with me. The officer requires to see you.\u201d I had not heard Simon speak to Khohlwa in such an endearing, almost begging tone. He was begging. His whole body said so.<\/p>\n
\u201cI hope all is well.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was too afraid to ask a direct question but the anxiety to know overwhelmed me. Simon did not look up but seemed to concentrate on helping a very able-bodied and bewildered Khohlwa out of the car as though she was a fragile old woman. He herded her towards the office building and we all watched, like soccer fans at a captivating match. Vusa stepped out of the car and went to stand at the back smoking a cigarette and looking over the river. I could smell the smoke and it was making my stomach turn. The sun was setting, its colors staining the wisps of clouds that hung suspended in the sky. I liked sunsets, but that evening it felt as though the sun was sinking with a part of me. The acid shot up and down scalding my throat like boiling hot tea. I swallowed to keep it down.<\/p>\n
Simon and Mpofu walked back to the car and settled themselves in front seats. I waited for something about why Kholhwa was left at the office. We waited. Khethiwe picked nervously at bits of fluff on her skirt like she did when she picked ticks off Poppy\u2019s body. Suko had his eyes closed but I knew he was not asleep.<\/p>\n
We waited. The sun went down in an explosion of light and the stars appeared. I dared not think about why my child was not here with us. I could not let my mind wonder what she was doing in the office. Instead, I told myself that very soon all would be well and our new life in South Africa was about to be born.<\/p>\n
In the gathered gloom, I saw her coming out of the office, walking, her back straight head held high. I sighed with relief. If something bad had happened she would not walk like the usual proud Khohlwa. She was still her. As she neared the car I noticed she held something white in her hands. Quickly she got into the car. Khethiwe made room for her without the usual prompting. Vusa got in and took his spot in the middle row. It was dark and I could not see Khohlwa\u2019s face. She did not utter a word but she handed Vusa the sheet of paper she brought with her from the office. Vusa did not speak and he passed the paper to Simon in the front. Simon peered back once or twice as Mpofu started the car and turned the headlights on. We rejoined the line which was now short. The buses were already on this side of the border, pulling up to stop the same way we had. Part of me desperately wanted to see Khohlwa in the light to talk to her and find out if she was alright. But another part of me cringed as though it could not handle what Khohlwa would have to say about what happened in that office. I told myself that I would ask her when we arrived and we could be alone. I calmed myself by looking at the night lights as we pulled out of the border post and onto the highway towards Jo\u2019burg. We had crossed. No passports, no Limpopo River. I was thankful but could not shake off the sense of foreboding that settled snugly in my bones.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Dinga<\/b>
\nfrom the forthcoming novel<\/em>, “I Did not Ask to be Born”
\n\u201cDinga has asked me to marry him.\u201d
\nKhethiwe 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\u2019s white shirt, scrubbing it and dunking it into the dish of opaque water vigorously like she was trying to drown it.
\n\u201cHe says he wants me to have his baby\u201d.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":3133,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-89","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/89","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=89"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/89\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3974,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/89\/revisions\/3974"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3133"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=89"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=89"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue24\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=89"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}