NURSE THEMBENI
CHAPTER 22
THEMBENI
I wake up to two faces hovering above me. For a second, my mind doesn’t understand what I’m seeing. I rub my eyes, I must not be seeing right. Oh, they’re still there. I scream, jerking upright, dragging the blanket up to cover my myself.
Why are there people in my room?
How long have they been standing there?
Were they watching me sleep?
I have never, ever woken up to strangers staring at me. At home, if someone walked into my room without knocking, I would lose my mind. Privacy is normal, privacy is basic. So why is this happening like it’s nothing?
The two girls don’t move. They don’t even look surprised. They just stand there with their hands clasped in front of them, heads slightly bowed, calm as if they expected the scream.
“Good morning, Ndlunkulu,” the one on the left says softly.
“Sawubona, Ndlunkulu.” The other follows.
I’m still trying to catch my breath and she’s already reminding me I’m a queen.
“What are you doing in my room?” I ask. My voice comes out rough from sleep, but also from shock.
They don’t look shocked by my question.
“Who told you to come in?”
“We were sent to help you get ready for breakfast, Ndlunkulu.” The taller one answers without lifting her eyes.
Help me get ready?
“Get ready how? I can wash my face. I can brush my teeth. I can dress myself and I’ve been doing that my whole life.”
Do they think I’m a child? Or… is this how things work here? Do queens not wake up alone? The shorter one glances up at me, like she’s scared to look too long.
“MaPhikela said we should assist you, it’s our job, Your majesty.”
Haibo! Your majesty! Qondi and Nala need to witness this. I’m living someone’s dream, it’s not even auditions, it’s happening.
Anyway, I remember MaPhikela. She was one of the older women who welcomed me yesterday. Just hearing her name makes me tired. Yesterday she dragged me around this entire palace. Every time I tried to ask about Mehlo, she dismissed me by saying ‘He is resting.”
I never saw him again last night. I fell asleep tired, confused, and honestly angry. Angry at him for leaving me alone with people I don’t know, he could have sent Mvikeli or his dad to let me know how he was. This whole place feels foreign.
“Who is going to be at this breakfast?” I ask the ladies.
They begin listing names. Uncles. Aunties. Elders. Cousins. Hlongwane this. Hlongwane that. The names roll past me like water on a duck’s back. I don’t recognize any of them.
I hold up my hand. “Wait. Is Mehlo going to be there?”
There’s a small pause. They look at each other before answering, you would swear they’re choosing their words carefully.
“We are not sure, Ndlunkulu. He is still recovering.” the taller one says.
I thought the person they were taking him to would work his magic and he’d be walking today. I need to see him. I need to know he’s okay with my own eyes. I need him to explain why I had to find out he’s a king from other people instead of from him.
I need to shout at him. I need to ask him why he thought that was something small enough to hide. He still hasn’t told me why he said he was giving up on me, then came to my home with his cows. Why he’s using Mthunzi not Hlongwane. But more than all of that… I just need him breathing.
I sigh and let the blanket fall slightly.
“Fine. I’ll get ready on my own. You can go.”
They bow again, deeper this time, then leave the room, closing the door behind them. Honestly, this is not normal. People don’t just enter my room while I’m sleeping. Is this what my life is now? No privacy? No warning?
I swing my legs off the bed and look around. The room is simple but beautiful. The bed is higher than my bed back home and bigger. Against the wall is a wooden wardrobe carved with patterns that look like mountains and rivers. I remember MaPhikela’s voice from last night.
“These clothes are yours, child. Wear what feels right.”
She said it like I’m staying. I open the wardrobe. Jesus! It’s all dresses and nothing but dresses, long ones. Some with bright patterns, there are beaded scarves, headwraps. Thick socks for the cold mornings. Beads and more beads, everything looks traditional and elegant.
Yeah I have dresses back home, but I have pants too and tights and track pants.
I search until I find the shortest dress in there, a simple knee-length black one. At 5’3, long dresses swallow me whole so I try to avoid them as much as I can. This one at least lets me breathe.
I try it on. Okay, not bad.
The black makes my skin glow, and my breasts look fuller in it. It’s a loose dress that flows down my hips, it makes them look smaller than they are, but at least I don’t look like a child playing dress-up. I nod to myself, it’s good enough.
I quickly twist my natural hair into a bun. It’s still messy from yesterday. I don’t have the energy to braid it. I secure it with a clip from the dresser. I’ll visit a salon when I go home.
When I go home! I am going home… right? Is this permanent? Something tells me I won’t be here for long. I reach for my phone on the side table by the bed. It’s dead.
I plug it into the solar outlet near the bed, as it lights up, notifications flood the screen. I have missed calls from all my brothers, and Philile. Ngcwele’s the only one who left a voice note. I press play and lower the volume.
“Themi, it’s me. I came home and they told me you left with some king. What is going on? Are you coming home? Just let me know you’re okay, please. I don’t know what’s happening there, but call me when you can. I’m worried.”
Out of all my brothers, he’s the only one who checks on me without wanting something in return.
I type back. “I’m fine and safe. I’ll call later.”
I send it and make my way to the bathroom, I’m going to take a very long bath. When was the last time I used a bathtub? I like this room, everything is in here. I don’t have to bump into people while looking for the toilet.
I’m thinking of having breakfast in this room..I still don’t know what breakfast means around here. Is it just food? Or is it a ceremony? A performance? Am I being presented like an object?
Thirty minutes later, I’m done with everything. I open the door and step out of my room. One of the girls is waiting outside, as if she knew the exact moment I would be done.
“This way, Ndlunkulu.”
Not like I have a choice. I follow her outside, every single person who sees me stops and bows low, a few women ululate softly as I pass. Each sound makes my skin tingle. They are looking at me like I am already theirs.
I wave at every person who catches my eye, I can get used to this, as overwhelming as it is. My thoughts are running wild, this feels like a dream. This is not who I was yesterday. Is it possible for everything to change so fast?
But as much as I’m confused, I want to stay because somewhere in this valley, Mehlo is lying down, recovering. And right now, he is the only reason my feet keep moving forward.
.
.
By the time I step into the dining hall, I understand that this is not just breakfast. It is presentation.
The table is long and already full of women in structured dresses and layered beads. Men in tailored jackets with traditional patterns woven into modern cuts.
My rural mind was expecting everyone to be in morning robes and pajamas. Conversations stop the moment I enter and everyone stands and bow their heads. MaPhikela’s the only one seated. So this is how it’s done. I scan the faces and immediately recognize Mehlo’s mother, KaMavika. She is at the head of the table. I met her once before at Mehlo’s house in Cathkin Estates. Now she is bowing to me, a mere nurse. Next to her is the all mighty MaPhikela.
I met her yesterday when I arrived here confused and exhausted, and she wasted no time establishing herself. She does not smile easily. She does not soften her words. Everything about her says she has fought for her place and intends to keep it.
“Good morning.” I greet everyone, they greet back.
“You may be seated.” MaPhikela tells them and they follow her order.
As the queen, was that not my cue? I will let it slide, I’m new here anyway and I have no idea how things are done.
“That is an inappropriate dress for a queen to-be,” MaPhikela says.
There is nothing inappropriate here.
“I found it in the wardrobe, you said to wear anything.” I tell her and her glare shoots to the young ladies behind me. I see them shrink with fear.
“I will get the maidens to remove all short dresses, a queen in the making should set an example.” She says.
I am no one’s role model, never aspired to be one.
“You look beautiful, KaMajola.” Mehlo’s mom says, her smile puts me as ease. This is not my home and any sign that I’m not wanted here will make me withdraw.
“Thank you,” I return the smile.
A chair is pulled out for me before I even ask where I am meant to sit. It’s not just any chair, but a specific one. I walk toward it without rushing.
Plates are already laid out. The table is full, I’m talking fresh fruits arranged in bowls, soft scrambled eggs, grilled mushrooms, sausages, warm bread rolls, preserves in small glass dishes, tea in fancy pots. It’s western breakfast with traditional touches.
One of the young girls reaches for a serving spoon and begins placing food onto my plate without asking what I prefer. I look down at the growing portions.
I let her finish, thank her, then I adjust the plate slightly and remove what I do not want. I am not about to eat by force.
“We have been waiting for you to find your way home,” Mehlo’s mom says.
I smile politely. “That assumes I was lost.”
A few people at the table chuckle. KaMavika’s smile deepens, she’s not offended.
“You were always meant to be here,” she replies.
I have learned that when people say things like that, it usually means decisions were made without your input.
“You must have struggled to sleep without your man there.”
A few soft chuckles circle the table.
I am not embarrassed about Mehlo. If she’s implying that I was worried, then yes. I couldn’t sleep thinking about him and thanks to MaPhikela for keeping me busy, I couldn’t see him.
“I slept fine,” I say.
KaMavika laughs gently. “Still, it must feel different now that you’re in a strange place.”
Different is one word for it.
“It feels confusing, no one mentioned he was a king when I met him.” I reply honestly. “How is he?”
“He is improving. The poison is leaving his system.” Mehlo’s mom says.
“I would like to see him after breakfast.”
“No.” MaPhikela.
Oh! That was a harsh no. I turn my head toward her.
“No?” I would like to know why I can’t see the man who brought me here.
“No one sees Ndabezitha until he is stronger, we do not yet know who poisoned him.” MaPhikela says.
“I thought chief Menzi is responsible.” I might get arrested for defamation of character, there’s no evidence yet that points to Menzi.
MaPhikela has bushy eyebrows and they do not look nice crumpled up like that.
“Do not refer to that man as a chief. He is an imposter.”
Pho, why is she snapping at me?
“Fine, Menzi. Either way, I did not poison Mehlokazulu. I would like to see him.”
“The only people entering that room are myself, KaMavika, and Bab’ Mvula.” MaPhikela.
There is something about the way she says it that tells me this is less about safety and more about authority.
“Thembeni is his future queen. She has every right to visit him.” Mehlo’s mom argues.
MaPhikela does not look at her, but she looks annoyed by the statement. She keeps her eyes on me.
“If she wishes to see him, she may request a time through me. Everyone who wants to see Ndabezitha makes an appointment with me and I decided whether they get to see him or not. Until KaMajola is married to him, she will follow protocol.” MaPhikela says.
What is this? The days of Shaka Zulu?
“Request a time? Am I booking a consultation?” I ask.
A few people at the table drop their eyes to their plates. I noticed that when she speaks, everyone keeps queit.
“I am his mother,” MaPhikela says.
How is that possible? Mehlo told me KaMavika is his mother, and that’s the lady sitting at the head of the table. KaMavika lets out a short laugh, she’s not offended in the slightest.
“You were paid to look after the boy when he was young and traumatized. That does not make you his mother.” Mehlo’s mom.
Oh, okay! That explains the tone, the possession and the protective edge I’m sensing from MaPhikela.
“Yes, Precious. I raised him while you and your husband were busy working.”
Wow, MaPhikela just called Mehlo’s mom by her government name.
“I became the mother he lost, but you thought it best to give yourself the title just because you’re married to his uncle.” MaPhikela says
Yoh! So Bab’ Mvula and KaMavika aren’t his biological parents. MaPhikela was the nanny and now she thinks she’s the real mother and can gatekeep him like this.
“The only reason you’re still here, MaPhikela, is because Mehlo is fond of you. He thinks highly of you. Do not take advantage of that and abuse your power in his life.”
“I’m not abusing anything. I’m protecting my son. Until we know exactly who poisoned him, Thembeni will not be going anywhere near his room.” MaPhikela.
I’m KaMajola here, not Thembeni. She must not bore me. Now I understand, she feels entitled to him because she was available when KaMavika was not. Did she not get paid for her services?
If she did, then Mehlo owes her nothing.
“I am not trying to disrespect anyone, I just want to see that he is okay with my own eyes. That is not unreasonable.” I say.
“He will come to you when he is better, for now, wait like everyone else.” MaPhikela says and picks up her teacup as if the matter is settled.
Now I see why she refused for me to see him yesterday. I look down at my plate, my appetite is gone. If MaPhikela believes I will queue for access to the man who brought me here, she is mistaken. But I am not foolish enough to challenge her in front of a full table on my first morning. I will see Mehlo with or without her permission.
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