5

I woke up with my cheeks stretched across the far corners of my face. I levitated out of bed and through my morning routine without a hitch or bad thought. By the time I reached the kitchen, I was vibrating and soothed all at once. My gran was the first to notice my chirpy mood. She happily welcomed me to join in with breakfast preparations. Pork sausages, baked beans, polla eggs, and freshly brewed coffee. I was in heaven that matched my mood.

My brother walked into the kitchen with his boxes and sloffies. He was bare-chested. It was weird to see the baby-haired decorating his chest as it would a man’s. It was difficult for me to recognise the baby I had left as the man standing in front of me, scratching his disheveled cork-screw hair.

“Put on clothes! There is a girl in the house. Cousin or not, she doesn’t need to see so much of you!!” My grandmother shrieked. The word ‘cousin’ stung my ear a bit, but my blissful mood serves as a shield. I laughed under my breath as Razeen’s eyes grew three sizes. He waved off our gran’s ongoing threats and walked back towards his room. When he returned, he was wearing a floor-length thobe with vibrant colours and patterns. Despite its beautiful designs, the grease stains plainly pointed out its casual function.

Seeing Zeen in his thobe, reminded me of the time had to explain to Lucas why my father was wearing a “dress” in the picture I had of us. Lucas was quite confused at first. But once I pointed out how fashionable it was in Africa, especially for the most distinguished men in the village, he was desperate to get his hands on one. We bribed one of the upperclassmen Anthropology students with a term’s worth of homework to make us thobes of our own.

My gran hurried my brother to his duty. She stressed that no wife would want a husband that couldn’t make a proper “polla eiers”. I bit my rebuttal as it formed on my tongue. This was not my place to contradict the woman of the house. He reluctantly rolled up his sleeves and started cracking the eggs.

“What do you normally eat up north?” my brother asked. I smiled at his interest, also at his trying to sneak the pieces of eggshell out of the bowl.

“We normally do a spread of bread and cold cuts,” I said shyly. It was a far cry from the feast they were preparing.

“That’s no kind of food. No wonder you lost your meat up there!” my gran interjected concerned.

“We also have really good eggs benedict with salmon when the cooks are feeling happy,” I tried to save the face of my northern home. My gran looked intrigued by my words.

I explained what flavours and ingredients go into making an egg’s benedict and she was very impressed. My brother was stuck on the fact that we had people who cooked for us. I assured him that it was only when we were on campus. Lucas and I were the designated cooks when we went to his during the holidays.

There was a were feeling bubbling in my stomach as my gran offered to teach me how to make polla eggs, much to Zeen’s relief. She said I should have one dish from home to take back with me. I even gave her some tips to season her fish the next time she decided to make it. Excited by the prospect to improve her already “perfect fish recipe”, gran announced that we would have fish that night. My brother stomach sounded his agreement with the evening’s menu. It was a bittersweet feeling to stand beside my family as we all prepared the food for the morning. It was a moment that I had always wanted to experience but it also reminded me of how unlike the rest of my family I had become.

I felt the two days pass through me like the kindest hurricane the world has ever known. I allowed myself to relish in the growing familiarity between Zeen and myself. We exchanged joking remarks and spoke without having to trade words. He wasn’t much of a talker – like father like son. The time I spent away from my brother’s side was spent under the tutelage of my gran. The old crow held my attention like a Venus flytrap, but I loved every second of her “womanhood” crash course. In her opinion, the northerners had allowed me too many edges for my feminine form – I needed to soften up and learn the ways of making a home. I did whatever it took to bring a proud sparkle in her cloudy eyes. I knew she saw my mother when she looked at me, so I smiled at her all on behalf of both of us.

Kelly danced in my memory of the last two days – her smile and frazzled mind were key players in my highlight reel. I was amazed that someone as locally bred as her would know so much about the world – my world. She was a never-ending collection of rare and fantastical tidbits of information. I had a sweet but sinking feeling in my gut every time I saw her. I tried to recall every feature, every gesture, every pitch of laughter, every touch, every kiss we shared. In two days, that would stand as relics in the gallery of my mind. I tried to rip those thoughts as they sprouted but it was for naught. It was the truth and I was a fool to deny it.

But “then” is a long way away from today.

I found Kelly standing in the lake where we first met. She was violently stabbing the water with a rather long stick. Not wanting to interrupt the furious work, I watched from afar. Every few seconds she’d rub her eyes. I reckon the water was having a good go at splashing her face as she pierced the murky waters at a speed.

“Kelly…?” I asked in a ginger voice. She was too busy to hear me. I took it upon myself to walk closer towards her.

“Kelly,” I said again louder. She stopped this time and wiped her eyes once more. I watched her shoulders rise and fall before she turned around to face me with a bright smile.

“What’s with the stick?” I asked in a semi-joking manner. She seemed to match my smile. And walked towards me. I met her halfway and wrapped her in an excited embrace – I could barely contain myself at this point. I was still on a blissful high from the night before and this morning’s merriments served only to improve my mood further.

I decided to go with the flow and even offered to help her with her chores for the day; despite her repeatedly denying that she needed help. I insisted. This way I would get to spend more time with her. Eventually, she relented and allowed me to help her.

When she informed me that she was tasked with spearfishing from their dinner. I got a brilliant idea. I put my hand on her shoulder to get her attention. She looked up at me but didn’t meet my eyes. She was probably disappointed that she couldn’t find fish. I smiled at her and motioned for her to move out of the water. Discarding my sandals on the riverbank, I walked into the murky water. I looked around and saw that we were alone for as far as I could see. Good.

There was a sense of anticipation. I had never gotten the opportunity to show my true self to someone from my village before, but this was different. Kelly was different and she was the right person to show this part of myself to. I felt a spark of confidence buzz through my veins as I finally met Kelly’s red eyes. Don’t worry. I’ve got you, Kelly. I tried to communicate to the sad girl peeking at me from behind her fringe.

With one last wink to the curious beauty, I was ready. The first step is always to find my tether point. I burrowed my toes into the icy soil. I waited until I felt the slimy brushing of the fish scales against my ankles. That was what I was waiting for. I allowed the familiar warmth to spread from my chest and head simultaneously until it spread throughout my body and eventually reached my toes. I tried to isolate a single emotion in my mind. Over the years, I had cordoned off a file of select memories to use as a trigger. The one I selected was specifically bitter but not infuriating. I didn’t need that much energy for what I was about to do. I let the bile bubble up in my gut and singe the valve of my stomach. The boiling fumes ate away at the skin on my throat as it rose up and tore into my flesh. I waited for the toxically moment that the fumes filled my mouth and fogged up my vision.

I allowed all of my emotion to erupt from me and pour into the water before me. The water started to boil instantaneously. I felt the soil behind me petrify and molt against my skin as it turned volcanic. I wiggled my ankle and felt the still smoothness of the pre-cooked fish on the riverbed.

Perfect!

I was beyond happy to discover that I had managed to catch four fish with my less-than-usual hunting style. That was enough to bring back some of the sparkle in Kelly’s eyes. She seemed both overjoyed with the sight of four large fish in her bucket and in awe of the sight she had seen. I had floated out of the water on the back of my elation. For so long I had feared coming home. Now, I was at home and exposing my secret to a member of my own village. I could barely believe what had just transgressed. I was free. Not for long. Not forever. But right now, in the present of a petite beauty with a kind heart, I was completely free. I decided it was best to get Kelly home. I didn’t want to risk anyone stumbling across the molten riverbed and placing her at the scene. Even freedom left a trail of evidence in its wake.

We meandered on the path, fingers brushing, as we walked back to her house. I could feel the heat dancing on my cheeks every time her skin grazed mine. I could have sworn that I heard her giggle. The silence between us was almost as light as I felt while we walked.

“What’s next on your list?” I chirped up as I placed the bucket of slightly chard fish.

“Clean de fis,” she said.

I happily followed her lead. She effortlessly cut open the fish and emptied its insides into the bucket. I tried not to lose my breakfast as I watched the scene. By the time she reached the intestines, I couldn’t hold back my disgust and had to fight to bile fighting to escape my gut. It was usually an instinct to invite its warmth, but I knew this reaction would result in something far worse than a enflames riverbed. I instead closed my eyes and took a few deep breathes.

Kelly rumbling laughter helped me calm down for a bit. Then I realized that she was laughing at me. I wanted to defend myself and save face in front of her. But the raging nausea was not having any of it.

Before I had any hopes of fighting off the feeling myself, the piercing scent of ginger, lemon and something not particularly delicious smelling. It was coming from the mug Kelly was holding out to me. Trusting her remedies by now, I gulped down the fowl tasting drink. I had hoped that the lemon mind would help the taste. Nope. Turned out it just soured the ashy mud in the ceramic mug. Lekker, I thought sarcastically.

“You’re really good at this, you know,” I said in a faux smooth voice as she looked at me quizzically.

“The medicine… fixing things,” I tried to save myself, but she only laughed. I felt oddly victorious as I listen to her joy dance around the room. It was a booming, tripping kind of laugh this time. I felt free immersed in her happiness. I challenged myself to find new ways to make her smile throughout the day. Whether by the splashing of fish water, exaggerated stories about my time up north or with odd impressions of the many strange creatures I had encountered with Lucas. She didn’t laugh often but she did seem interesting in my stories.

“What do you want? If you would have anything?” I finally built up the courage to ask her as we sat behind her house. The sun was setting, and her father would be home soon for dinner. I needed to be gone before he arrived but my curiosity was insatiable.

“Far. I want to see the world,” she said, looking out into the distance. She turned to me looked at me with wonder in her eyes as she asked me more questions about the places I had been. I told her and looked deeper into my eyes. I described the river, valleys, mountains and strange people I had encountered. Every detail added another sparkle to her eyes, so I continued. Until the sun said goodbye.

It was strange to think that the girl who had made me feel so at home in this place wanted nothing more than to leave it. It was ironic in the most fitting way. Home is fickle and fleeting and never the same across one’s lifetime.