CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

[KUKHOKONKE]

I made it alive from the water and from Ndleleni and Cothoza too. The sun is already out now, blazing hot against my skin like it's trying to burn away the last trace of fear that clung to me in that freezing river.
I changed out of my normal clothes into a long white garment, my new attire, I guess. Barefoot too. My old clothes were burnt right there beside that still, sacred water. We left them smouldering, turning to ash and smoke that disappeared into the morning air. Someone passing by might think I'm a member of the Shembe church, dressed like this, but this is something deeper, stranger.
I thought I'd be hungry after the ritual. I'm a breakfast person, can't go a day without something warm in my stomach, but surprisingly, I'm not. My body feels light, almost empty but not in a bad way.
Bergville is beautiful, peaceful in a way Johannesburg never is. The air here feels clean, the mountains watch you like they know your secrets. It's homely, quiet, and still, but I know I could never stay here. My life, my work, my world are all in Joburg. I've got a job waiting for me, project manager at Y3 Life & Insurance. Josh, my boss, was kind enough to give me two weeks' leave to sort out this spiritual chaos. I didn't even know how to explain it to him properly, but somehow he understood. He told me to take care of myself and to shout if I needed anything.
As I walk closer to home, I can already see my mother standing at the gate. Her hands are clasped together, her eyes darting between me and the horizon like she's not sure if I'm real or a ghost. Poor woman, she probably thought her only son drowned. Anything is possible with Ndleleni involved.

I can't even blame her for being anxious. After all, I didn't just step into that river; I stepped into something I don't understand. Something ancient and unpredictable.
And I know, as I walk toward her trembling smile, that life as I knew it is over.

As we step into the yard, my family is visibly happy to see me alive. Cothoza instructs me to go to the ancestral house, the uguqa house, a traditional beehive-shaped hut where you have to bend so low just to get in. The grass mat has already been laid down, probably by my mother, preparing everything as if she knew this day would come. I settle in, sitting cross-legged in a meditation style. My father joins too, though he sits farther from Cothoza and me, his presence calm but firm.
"Bhungane, as you can see your son is alive and well, which means the cleansing ritual we did in the wee hours went successfully," Cothoza starts, trying to joke a little. I don't find it funny. I could have drowned, for Christ's sake.
My father simply nods, a gentle smile on his face, happy to see me alive. That sight alone tugs at my chest, a mix of relief and guilt.
"So, there is much work that needs to be done now, from here onward. You will have to do the ceremony soon, maybe in two months' time. Of course, Ndleleni and your ancestors will guide you on what to buy and what is required. For now, you must wear that garment every time you pray or consult your ancestors and all lost spirits who need guidance home," Cothoza continues. Spirits that need guidance home? I frown, confused and uneasy.
"What do you mean by that?" I ask, my voice a little shaky.
He claps his hands together and looks at me seriously.
"We need to know whether you are a healer, a messenger, or both. Your great-grandfather didn't specify that to me," he says.
A healer? What does that even mean? Consultations? Reading people? God, I'm going to lose my job. My heart thumps violently, the thought of my life in Joburg slipping away like sand through my fingers.
I gasp, looking at my father, hoping for some reprieve.
"Baba, I can't. I can't lose my job," I tell him, desperation seeping into my voice. But he looks at me as though I've insulted him, his expression firm, almost disappointed.
"Konke, it is time, and you knew this day would come. Ndleleni gave you a lot of time to enjoy your life. Now it is time to dive into your spiritual journey," my father says, his voice firm and serious. You've got to be kidding me.
"Why can't I be just a messenger? Just send messages to people…" I protest, trying to find a way out.
"Kukhokonke, as I said, we will hear from Ndleleni, and he will come to you and tell you what to do. You have already expected your gift, and there is no going back," Cothoza interrupts, sharp and commanding. Shembe, this can't be serious.
"And MaMngadi will make your beads, and we will fetch them once we get to Joburg," he adds.
I groan softly. How I wish MaMngadi had been the one chosen instead of Cothoza. She is calm, kind, and gentle, the one who sewed this garment for me, the one who makes beads. Cothoza's wife. I swallow hard, a tight knot forming in my chest.
"This is abuse," I cry out, frustration and fear spilling over.
"There is no abuse here. Just stop being a crybaby and do your job. Ndleleni will not make you suffer. You will be financially stable too. Just do as he says, and all shall be well," my father says. "And also stop being so angry and furious. You will be working with people, waters, plants, and the earth. You should be calm and steady. This thing of yours, your anger, will not help at all. And stop drinking every weekend now," he adds. Wait a minute, who said I drink every weekend?
"Bhungane, Ngcicela indlela. I need to go and see someone," Cothoza says, getting up. Where is he going now? I am the one who brought him here.

Before I can even ask, he and my father have already left, leaving me alone in the ancestral house with my thoughts, the white garment around me, and the overwhelming weight of what comes next pressing down on my shoulders.

__

I've been here for three days and I still haven't seen Yibanathi, my younger sister who went to QwaQwa for her education and came back with a diploma that seems to have two legs. I've already found my uncle, my mom, and of course my two-year-old nephew.

"Babomncane, Ma. Where is Yibanathi? I haven't seen her. Is she avoiding me?" I ask, because that definitely looks like it.
My uncle chuckles softly and walks out of the kitchen without saying much.
"She's around, maybe busy with schoolwork," my mom says quickly, shoving a plate of food toward me. She doesn't even look at me when she does it, which only makes it more suspicious. I can feel the tension rising in my chest. I'll need to go to Colenso once I'm done with all these Ndleleni demands and speak to Zenzele, Yiba's boyfriend, to make sure he does right by Celo. That boy and his whole family actually disrespect me, yes me, but I'll eat anyway. My anger and frustration are too raw; food might calm me down a little.
"So, how did it go? Did you see something… anything?" my mom asks curiously. Her question makes me drop my spoon on the plate. She knows I'm not supposed to talk about what happened at the river.
"Mama, what's going on? Please don't lie to me," I say, my voice firm but not unkind.
She chuckles softly, shaking her head, almost playfully.
"Nothing at all, just curious," she says and shrugs. She picks up Celo and walks out, leaving me staring at the plate, feeling the weight of her evasiveness. Very suspicious.

I wonder where Cothoza went. We first met in Johannesburg. I sleepwalked to his place once, and ever since, he's been my guide, my helper. As rude as he can be, he's also patient, teaching me, guiding me when I lose my way. I guess the nights hopping from club to club will have to stop now. I own this white, clean garment now, a symbol, a responsibility. No more one-night stands, no distractions that will derail my journey. On the surface, it might look peaceful, and in some ways it is. But it comes with its complications, struggles, and responsibilities. I just have to soldier on, plead to Ndleleni, and, above all, keep my job. I've worked too hard to be a project manager to lose it now.

I sigh hard as my phone vibrates in my pocket. A WhatsApp notification. I haven't checked WhatsApp since last night. Mehluko is forever posting Sne's photos, and it crushes me a little to see them. She does look like the kind of woman who could've helped me through this journey, grounded, faithful, attending her Zion church. But then, I guess my friend deserves his happiness. Ever since Sne came into his life, he's the happiest man in the world.

I check my messages and see one from Fanele, my older sister. She's always been the responsible one, the one who watches out for the family, the one who carries the weight of truth when no one else will. Her message reads:
"Konke, I hope you are doing well. Yibanathi called me, crying. She's pregnant. Please be nice to her."
I blink, rereading the message to make sure it's real, checking the date, half expecting it to be an April Fool's joke. But it isn't. I read it again, and a bitter chuckle escapes me. You've got to be kidding me.
I drop my phone on the table and laugh out loud in disbelief, shaking my head.
I pick it up again and stare at Fanele's message, my mind racing. This journey keeps getting more complicated, and I can't help but wonder what else is waiting for me.

But one thing is certain; Yibanathi will not have that child. I will drag her to an abortion clinic myself if I have to.

••••••

[NIKEZINKOSI]

Dee has left. She wanted to take a sick leave, but her boss lady said no. She's a paralegal at a big law firm in Parktown, and I swear, sometimes her complaints about the peanuts they pay her are endless. We met by chance with Diamond three years ago, and from that moment, we instantly clicked. She's been more than a friend; she's like a sister to me, the kind who steps in without being asked, who notices when something is off even before I do.

She always complains about the low pay she gets from the firm, saying it's not enough, that she deserves better, that she wants to leave and find a new job. I tell her to be patient, just a little, that like everyone else, her moment will come, her promotion will come. I know how she feels. I didn't lie when I said I would feel the pain she goes through, and now I feel it. Not too intense, but it hurts. Deep down, it stings to know that she struggles, and that sometimes the system is just unfair.
The house is already clean. Dee made sure of that before she left. She even got breakfast for me, though she ordered it, of course. I've tried to teach her how to cook, but she fails dismally every time. Maybe I'm just too soft on her, that's why I let it slide. She doesn't always notice it, but I do. It's these little things that remind me how much I care for her.

Talking about sisters… I haven't told Nontobeko or my mother about the accident. I don't even know where to start, especially with Mom. She'll overreact, I know her. She'll probably hire a taxi from Soweto, gather all her stokvel friends, and come here to pray over me like I'm on the verge of death. I can imagine it now, her frantic voice, her hands waving in the air, eyes wide with worry. Even thinking about it makes my chest tighten. I love her, of course, but I can't handle that kind of hysteria right now.

And then there's the leg. The one that aches from the accident. Every step reminds me of yesterday, of how fragile this body can be. It's a dull, persistent throb, annoying and relentless, a reminder that even small things can throw my day off balance. The pain makes me wince as I move around the house, reminding me that I'm not as invincible as I like to think. I have to take care of it, but I also have responsibilities that won't wait for me to heal.
I can't stay cooped up in this house all day. I need to fix some issues at school with my assignment, get my chilies ready, and take them to my mother. People buy them at work, and I'm completely out of stock. If I don't go to town and get a new bag, I'll lose sales. I can't let that happen.

Sboniso could drive me if he isn't busy. That would make things easier. If he's free, I could go to Pimville, see my mother, and tell her face to face that I got hurt. That way, I can control the narrative, keep her worry from spiraling, and handle it on my terms. It won't be easy, but I have to do it.

.
.
.
.
I've been trying to reach my childhood friend, Snothando. She's always on the road, busy with work, and I thought she would have been back in Joburg by now. I was hoping to ask her to be my driver today since she has a car. She's one of the big three in our circle, the one with a fancy job managing artists and celebrities. She once wanted to be a doctor, but I guess some dreams don't come true. Still, she seems happy where she is, and maybe that's all that matters.

My life, on the other hand, hasn't exactly been a smooth journey. I'm about to turn twenty-eight soon, and I just keep hoping that God or the gods, whoever is on my side, finally grants me happiness and peace. Sometimes I sit and think about how much I've endured, how many times I've started over, and it just hits me that maybe peace is the only thing I've ever really wanted.
If I'm being honest, my life only really started coming together recently. Getting this job at the clinic opened so many doors for me. It gave me a little structure, a little hope, something solid to hold on to. And last year, I finally got into college, Finance Management through distance learning. Late bloomer, sure. But blooming all the same.

I used to think that by now I'd have my own house, a stable, high-paying job, a car parked outside, maybe even a small garden with roses by the door. Those were the dreams, not just mine, but everyone's, I guess. We all grow up believing that by a certain age, we should have life figured out. But life doesn't work like that. My life didn't, at least.
I've had to fight for everything I have. I've cried, struggled, stretched myself thin just to take one small step forward. And sometimes that single step cost me everything, sleep, joy, energy, even faith. There were nights I couldn't even pray because I felt like God was tired of hearing from me.

And what scares me the most is that I've been there in the dark. I've stood at the edge of my own breaking point. Suicidal. Down bad. Life hit me so hard I actually wished it would finish me off. I drowned in pain so deep I didn't think I'd ever come back up.

But somehow, I did. Somehow, I'm still here.
Now that I'm slowly finding reasons to live, little things to hold on to, there's a new kind of fear creeping in. What if, just when I finally start living, my time runs out? What if this fragile peace I've built disappears again?
A tear slips down my cheek. I wipe it quickly and chuckle softly to myself, trying to shake off the heaviness before it swallows me again.

"We'll be okay, Nike," I whisper.
It's not just words. It's a prayer. A reminder. A promise to myself that even when life gets messy, I'll keep choosing to stay.

"I got three bags of chillies, for a discount," Sbo's voice cuts in as he places the bags in the boot. I can't help but smile. I saved a lot today, and thanks to him, I even got more jars than last time. He closes the boot and gets into the driver's seat, starting the car.

Sboniso is Diamond's cousin. He's the one who fetched me from work yesterday. He helps me a lot when he's not busy, and I really appreciate him for that. I don't have brothers, my mom and dad only had three daughters. Nontobeko is the first, I'm the middle child, and Futhi is the last. We have cousins, plenty of them, but I just hate bothering people, especially family. Everyone has their own problems, their own lives to deal with.

"Thank you, you helped me so much. I wasn't gonna survive the marketplace with this leg," I say gratefully, rubbing my thigh as a dull ache reminds me of yesterday's accident.
He glances at me with a small smile. "You know I'm always here for you. Just stop being stubborn."
I laugh under my breath. "Yes, I am stubborn. According to astrology, it's because I'm a Taurus."
He shakes his head, laughing. "You and your stars."
"I know, I know," I say, rolling my eyes playfully. "It's just that… you also have a job. I don't want to bother you."

He doesn't answer that. Just keeps his eyes on the road, humming along softly to the radio. I never ask where he works, and he never offers to tell me. Some things are better left in the quiet, I guess.

__

I expected the drama, and sure enough, Sylvia is screaming and wailing like I've died and come back to haunt her. Honestly, the neighbors will think someone actually died. I just sigh, waiting for the drama queen to calm down while Sbo has left to come back and fetch me.

"Why didn't you call, my baby?" she finally asks, her voice trembling as she sits down next to me. She's catching her breath, a little calmer now, though the panic still lingers in her eyes.
"I'm okay, Ma," I say gently, trying to ease her worry. "Just a little pain, it'll go away. They gave me three days' leave."
Her hands fly to her face. "You should have called me, Nike. What if you broke your leg?" And here it comes, the guilt trip. "Did you call Ntobe and Litsatsi?"
I nod, a little annoyed, honestly. I know they care, but this is too much sometimes. "I did call them. She'll come tomorrow. I told her not to come, but she's insisting."
Sylvia's face softens slightly, though the worry hasn't left her completely.
"Let me go pack you something to eat," she says, springing up and rushing to the kitchen. That's better.. I'm not going to sleep here. She'd probably call her friends to come pray over me.

My phone rings, and I glance at the screen. Zola. I wonder what she wants.
"Hey, babe," I greet softly.
"Hey girl, how are you feeling now?" Her voice carries that unmistakable tone of worry.
I sigh, rolling my eyes lightly.
"I'm doing good… but Sylvia is losing her mind," I say with a small giggle.
"Ooh, your mother. Bless her heart," Zola laughs. "Well, the man who knocked you with the car was here… asking for your number. We didn't give it to him, though."
I frown slightly and sit back, irritation creeping up. What the hell does he want now?
"Did he say what he wants?" I ask, my tone cautious but curious.
"He said he wanted to apologise and take you out for lunch," she answers. I huff softly, exasperated. What's wrong with that boy? I agreed to let him pay the bill, that's it. I don't want anything more, and I certainly don't want to see him again.

"If he comes back, call the cops," I say firmly, a sharp edge in my voice. Jesus!! wasn't enough for him to knock me down already?

•••••

[MNOTHO]

I should have gone to Southgate or Mall of Africa. I should have sent Bonga to handle this, but after what he did yesterday, getting into an accident and hurting someone in the process, I'm not trusting him to do it. Maybe I should take the car away from him, and his allowance too, so he can learn responsibility. The tender deal was going smoothly until he missed the meeting because of his recklessness.

Tshengisile's parcel has been sent. I just hope she doesn't bother me again, because this is the last time I'll be standing in line for her. Bonga usually handles things like this, but since I'm not speaking to him, I had to come myself.

I pause as I spot a newly opened bakery. Might as well grab a snack on the way home.

As I step inside, I freeze at the door. My eyes lock on a face that has been haunting me since last night. She's sitting alone, delicately cutting into a slice of chocolate cake. Is that her favorite? I don't know if I should go in or turn around and run.
It was my first time seeing her at Brian Clinic, or maybe I just didn't notice her at all. The person I usually chat with at the admin is Pinky, whom I've known for years through supplying Brian Clinic. Nikezinkosi. I didn't even know her name until yesterday. But now it won't leave my mind. It sits there like it belongs, like it's always been mine to notice.

She didn't look afraid of me. Didn't suck up. Didn't try to impress. She was polite. Present. Calm, even with bruises on her legs and chaos swirling around her. She's wearing a long dress, I guess to hide the bruises. Damn you, Bonga.
I sigh softly, still deciding whether to walk in or not. I'm behaving like a teenager with a crush. Most people crack under less. She's Twenty-eight. That's what Brian said. Seventeen years younger.
I can already hear the gossip if I so much as blink her way again. Or worse, what if she doesn't accept me? But still, there's something. Something I keep yearning for. God. I need to let this go. She's just an employee. A stranger, really.
But her name won't leave my mouth. And her face won't leave my thoughts.

My stomach flips , a fluttering I haven't felt in years. My legs feel weak, yet I'm rooted to the spot. My heart is doing something strange. My mind is behaving differently, like neither of them belong to me anymore. What will I say to her when I go over there? What if she's angry about Bonga's mistake? What if, oh Lord.

I feel my chest rising and falling too quickly. My pulse is loud in my ears. Every instinct tells me to flee, but I'm frozen, caught between logic and feeling, paralysed by the storm and chaos inside me.
And I stand there, trembling slightly, heart racing, palms slick with sweat, caught in the impossible choice, whether to follow my heart or walk away.