Chapter 9

It has been four nights since my fight noBaba and things seem to slowly be going back to normal well, almost. uBaba decided since I will not be graduating as a warrior anymore, I am forbidden to attend warrior training.

Instead I have been given the honour of more responsibility within the village by helping with the healing hut's washing. I was told about my new assigment early this morning when Iyanga came to our hut to fetch me. To say I wasn't expecting some sort of punishment would be a lie, I haven't seen uBaba since he left me in our hut and I haven't been avoiding him like I usually do it's just... I don't think he is actually in the village, which I find strange but don't mind.

Honestly, this is getting old, I feel too old to be punished by anyone especially by my father. I sigh and then I begin TRYING to reason with her however, I am met with a stern expression I had thought she was incapble of expressing. Her usually calm and empathetic features, are taunt and .... determined? When I turn to uMa for sympathy, and all I find is her sad eyes looking back at me, I cannot truely say what emotion her face is portraying, however her voice sounds... defeated.

"Thandiwe, awulaleli, awucabangi, awufundi, hamba." (Thandiwe, you don't listen, you don't think, you don't learn, just go), as she said these words her eyes pleaded with me not to argue. It was not so much what she said, but how she said it. She sounds so tired...of me?

I felt hurt and betrayed, basically the only elders, I consider to be on my side have, just deserted me. But hearing my mother's voice like this I feel guilty. Ma's life is not easy, and truthfully my butting heads with uBaba does not make anything better.

So, I take a deep breathe, blink back the tears that threatened to fall and I breathe out. I stand up and I lower my head to the ground then leave the hut, I wait for Iyanga outside.

There's nothing left to say, I can apologise but I wouldn't mean it. It hurts, fighting for myself shouldn't be so hard, I shouldn't have to fight against uBaba and the fact that this brings her sorrow, it was never my intention.

I hear them speak in hush tones and when Iyanga finally walks out, I follow her to the healing hut. To feel the bitter taste of self pity once again in such a short period of time is unnerving. Before long we have arrived and I wait outside as she goes in to retrieve the skins. She comes out twice, both times dumping heaps of dirty skins at my feet, before I can bring myself to pick them up she puts her hand on my shoulder, to which I immediately stand still.

Her hand is neither harsh nor comforting, she stares at my face and when I glance up, I am met with her sharp and intense gaze. Her eyes are bloodshot and almost pitch black in the centre. I immediately look back at the ground, then her hand shifts from my shoulder to my chin.

I wince as she forces my face up but my eyes refuse to meet hers. It is a sign of great disrespect to look our elders in the eyes, so I am baffled when she says, "Ngibeke!, Ngibeke emehlweni" (Look at me!, Look at me in the eyes!)

I slowly lift my eyes to meet her eyes and it is as if she is looking into my mind. I have looked at people in the eyes before, when clouded by anger or hurt but it is unnerving to have someone looking into my eyes and have me stare back. She lets go of my chin and my face remains in the same position, looking at her. I take in her facial expression and cannot help but feel confused, her demeanor today has been very strange. " Ukhulile manje, Cabanga ngenqondo yakho," ( You are grown now, Think with your head) she says pointing at the centre of my forehead, "ayingehliziyo" (not with your heart). She leaves me alone outside going back into the hut, as I let her words sink in. Today has been strange to say the least but her words and my mother's words fill me with a sense of foreboding, I know Inyanga just told me not to follow my heart, but I can't shake the feeling that I am about to be in the middle of a storm.

I nearly vomit when I finally gather the strength to pick the skins up from the ground, the combination of what I am sure is urine, blood, vomit and some human excrement convinces me that this was not just punishment, but torture.

Regardless, I carry the skins to the river by myself, the area where we do washing is further down river and by the time I dump the skins on the river bed, my arms are aching. The loud thud caused by the skins hitting the hard ground draws the attention of some of the women who are already doing their washing.

"Sanibonani" (Greetings), I say greeting them, "Nkosazana!" (Princess) they all mumble in recognition. I glance at them and decide not to pay them any mind, it is not as though they've never seen me here before.

Every other day Ma, Sindiswa and I come here to wash our skins, always together. As I carry two skins into the river to wash, I hear the shrieking and giggling the little children playing in the river. They are still too young to help with any chores, so their mother's carry or walk around with them doing everything.

Truthfully, they are always there but today I really look at them. They look so carefree and happy, they chased each other through the water and laughed so ignorant of the struggles of growing up, I can't help but smile as one of them slips and falls into the water, he gets up crying and immediately wades into his mother's arms. I wish I could go back to that age, I cannot remember it all but I know I was much happier than I am now.

I guess I stare at the children for too long, because one of the more mature woman at the river looks over to me, smiles and saying, "Ezakho ziyeza" (Yours are coming). At first I blinked and looked at her, I recognise her as Elder Ngcobo's wife uMaMkhize. I haven't spoken to her many times so I was shocked she actually spoke to me.

I laugh softly and shaking my head, and smile. I don't want to be rude and tell her what I was actually thinking, so I get back to the matter at hand. I put the dirty skins into the river, pushing them down with my hands and soaking them in the water.

I begin to scrub the stains away with a rock, slowly getting into the mind numbing rhythm of scrubbing back and forth. Today is a windy day, the south winds have been blowing steadily since this morning and from experience I know this means the summer rains are coming.

I am more than ready for the rains to come and finally wash away all the pain of this past winter.

"Awu kodwa Nkosazana anjani amaKhosana ?" (Oh Princess, how are the Princes). I fight the urge to roll my eyes because, why couldn't the first question that someone asks me today be about how I am feeling today. I sigh and reply, " Bayakhula" (They are growing), I ensure my tone is not rude however, I refuse to discuss anymore regarding my brothers.

After that, the women washing in the river continue their conversations and I cannot be bothered to engage with them. I see two only two other women that I recognise as being my age , Zinhle and Thobeka, both are married and have had their first child already and are seemingly talking about the struggles of married life, they nod their heads at me, to which I do the same. Thobeka motions for me to come closer but I smile and shake my head, politely declining. Since I cannot relate I doubt I would have anything to contribute.

Instead I allow their voices to form part of the background noise along with the children playing and the wind howling and the river flowing.

I have lost count of how many skins I have washed already, this one has blood and its particularly hard to scrub off, when I hear the women greet someone. "Nkosazana!", I turn to see my older sister, Nokubonga approaching.

She walks gracefully towards the river, carrying a woven reed basket on her head, the moment she reaches the riverbank the other women flock to help her take the basket off her head, and then I am able to see that the basket is full of fruits and vegetables. At that moment my stomach reminds me that I did not finish eating breakfast this morning and my mouth begins to water as I see a few mangos, bananas and berries right at the top of her basket.

Nokubonga and I are not particularly close, I think its partially because of our age gap, we are 10 years apart and partially because our mother's do not get along. She has always been distant to everyone not just me so I don't take it personally. She finishes greeting the other ladies and she glances up at me, looking slightly surprised, she glances around as if looking for someone and then looks at me again. The other women all clamour to talk to her all at once, asking her about her health and the baby.

My sister will be nine months pregnant in a few weeks, she did not even start showing until her 5th month and now her stomach looks huge. This is my sister's first born, she looks the happiest she has been since I can remember. She tries to answer all their questions but she keeps glancing at me.

Worse yet, I am so hungry, I cannot keep my eyes from glancing at her basket every few minutes. Eventually I decide to turn my back on them and keep working, I have washed more than half of the skins and my back is killing me. The sun is beginning to warm the air around us and I am grateful since the wind keeps biting at my skin.

I am washing the last skin when I hear, "Dadewthu" (My sister), I look up to see Nokubonga on the river bank, she is carrying a couple of fruits in the crook of her arm, she is motioning for me to come to her. I am embarrassed to say I did not hesitate to take the skin I had in my hand, carry it on my back and wade my way to the riverbank.

My pride must have taken a vacation because I could have cried when she handed me the fruits. " Ngiyabonga" (Thank you), I say in such relief, taking the fruits I sit down and dig in, moaning at the taste and my stomach groaning in satisfaction.

I feel her hands on my shoulders as she stablises herself to sit down besides me. I find it odd but pay her no mind as I continue eating my fruits. I am almost finished eating all the fruits when I hear her groan and quickly turn and look at her to check if she is alright, she is groaning but smiling, touching her stomach.

"Avebenyakaza" (They move around alot), she says softly, her voice was shaky as her other hand grabs my arm. My heart drops, I cannot believe my ears, my hope is that she misspoke, life cannot possibly be this cruel. Her firm grip on my arm as her tears fall down, confirm that what I heard her say is true.

I am speechless, silence surrounds us, despite the wind blowing strong. I look around wandering where all the women and children went since I cannot see or hear them anymore. "Seku'semini"( Its midday) she says sniffling. Her tears have stopped flowing but her face remains in despair.

My fruits are forgotten as I sit closer to her, I remove her hand from my arm and instead hold it in my hand. " Have you told anyone?", I whisper. "Iyanga, nawe." (Just the healer and you) Why would she tell me this?

I want to scream, I want to cry but none of that will help my sister. All I can do is put my hand over my mouth to stop the sound coming out of my mouth, but the tears flow, I look at her face and she looks like she is far away, like she isn't even breathing.

It is so rare to have birth of twins our village, we haven't had any since my brothers' birth and even then, the atmosphere was tense. The first time she carries to term will be twins. I try to steel my emotions and stop crying and before I can pull myself together she continues.

"Ngazalwa ngiwele" (I was born a twin), I feel as though my heart stops beating and for a moment I stop breathing. "Baphisana ngaye" (They gave her away).

Hearing that I take the breathe I was holding in relief. It's still horrible, but for a spilt second, I thought she was going to say our family killed her twin.

I squeeze her hand, because right now words fail me. Ma is right, I am so oblivious I couldn't see what was right in front of me. I pray for all our sakes she has two boys, because if not...

As if emulating our inner turmoil the wind keeps blowing, the river rushes, the sand blows in the wind, I can see it but all I can hear is my heart beating loudly in my ears. I hold my sister's hand even tighter, and lay my head on her shoulder, I can only hope that the action brings her some comfort.

And yet the world doesn't stop to give us a moment to catch our breathe, it just keeps moving, and as I close my eyes, the last tears rolling down my face and in my minds eye, I can see the dark clouds rolling in.

I see the storm coming.