INSERT FOUR
SABELO
I don’t know if I’m the one who’s losing it or the people I call in-laws are the ones who should be on their way to the looney-bin. I don’t care what they believe in, I don’t care what culture says, I’m not about to disrespect my wife like that. She could be replaceable to them, to me she is not.
“So,” I clear my throat. “You all sat down and decided to disrespect my wife’s memory just like that—”
“It’s not disrespect, it’s tradition!” the aunt persists. Sometimes I’m tempted to believe that one selfish and sick being invented these traditions because there’s no way a sane person could have decided that shoving another woman down a grieving man’s throat is a good idea.
“It may be, but none of you are thinking about me or your late daughter. You are all doing this for your own selfish reasons. How am I all of a sudden suppose to see a wife in Owethu? I have been nothing but a brother to her and you all want to erase that? You are so determined to erase my wife’s memory so quickly that you are unable to even think rational. What makes you think I want another woman anyway? Did you even think about what I want?”
“Son,” my father politely says. “You are a man and you need a partner to help you move forward. God created Eve for Adam because He could see how lonely Adam was. We don’t want you to be lonely and end up doing things that will bring shame to this family.”
“You already brought shame into my house by suggesting that I should marry my wife’s sister,” I respectfully respond even though I’m fuming.
“We can give you time to think about it—”
“I don’t need time, I know what I want and that is to mourn my wife and try to figure out a way forward without another woman next to me. I’m fine on my own and I would appreciate it if you all respect my wishes.”
“But son—”
“But nothing, Mthombeni. We are done with this discussion, if I may please be excused.”
I stand up before any of them can say a word. I know they will say I’m out of line for walking out on them but I don’t care what they think about me right now. They don’t care about me, why should I care?
******
OWETHU
“Don’t worry, I’m here for you and you will never be without family for as long as I live,” these were Anele’s last words to me when we spoke on the 31st. I wanted to tell her something, something that I have been keeping a secret for months. I desperately needed her to tell me that I will be fine, that it’s not the end of the world and it happens. She was my go-to person, you know. She was a best friend, a mother wrapped in a sister and she would do anything for me. Little did I know that she would leave me to face this alone. I’m now sitting here, my feet deep into the pool and wondering if life will ever make sense without her.
My heart is broken beyond repair and I’m afraid it’s affecting my physical being. I’m scared to go to the doctor even though I can feel that I’m not okay.
“Wethu?” Nomakhosazana joins me.
“Hey,” I lay my head on her shoulder and she rubs my back.
“Where to from here?” she asks and I think that’s a rhetoric question because there’s no way she expects me to know the way forward when I’m just the last born—one they have sheltered throughout her life. “I wish she can appear, laughs at us and tell us that this is all a prank. It’s hard to believe that she is gone.”
“I always pray asking for God’s will to be done but I never knew that God’s will is this painful. I feel like someone ripped my heart apart.”
“We will be okay,” she says, more to herself than she is comforting me. We sit in comfortable silence, each to their own thoughts.
“How could you allow this to happen?” I think I hear Sabelo say. I turn my head and yes, he’s standing right behind me. I have a terrible headache so looking up at him is a problem right now.
“Are you talking to me?” I ask. Trust me, if I had means to stop my sister from dying I would have done it. More for him than for myself because I know how much he loved her. How is he even accusing me of letting this happen?
“Yes. How are you okay with marrying me when we just buried your sister—”
“What?” my head is buzzing. I shake it to try and get rid of this feeling but it stays.
“Why are you acting surprised? Your parents are in there shoving this remarriage thing down my throat—”
“No, there must be a mistake, this definitely has to be a mistake. Are you sure you are not drunk and creating scenarios in your head, Sbali—”
“I’m not crazy and I’m not drunk. I thought you loved your sister, I thought you respected me as a brother—”
“Woah,” I stop him before he can say things that he will regret later on. I balance on Nomakhosazana’s shoulder and stand up. “I don’t know anything about this, I swear. You know me, you know my boyfriend, I have always come to you and my sister for relationship advice, why would I want to do this? Do you have so little faith in me? You don’t believe in the little sister who has always called upon you when she has a problem?” a tear escapes my eye. I’m hurt, honestly. How can he think so little of me?
“You really didn’t know?” he asks.
“I didn’t and I’m going to set the record straight with my parents. My sister was not some property that she can be replaced just like that,” I slip my feet into the slippers.
By the time I get into the house, I can barely breathe. I’m huffing like someone who just completed a race.
“Ma,” I call her out before I can even sit down. “What are you doing?”
“Sit down when addressing elders,” my aunt says.
“No! Why do you think I can replace my sister? She meant so little to all of you?” After what they just did, they don’t deserve my respect.
“It’s tradition and you are the only one who is not married. Shouldn’t you be happy that you will be marrying a good man?” that’s my aunt talking.
I laugh through my pain.
“Wena Aunt you shouldn’t be the one talking about marriages and good men. If you had an eye for good men and marriages, you wouldn’t have given four men their first borns and still none of them saw you fit to be their wife—”
“Owethu!” my father berates.
“No man, you people misuse traditions just to suit your selfish needs! You are wondering who will be sending you money every month since Anele is gone and uSbali might move on. I pray he does and cut you all off completely because you don’t deserve his kindness—”
“Owethu, shut up!” now it’s my mother’s turn to reprimand me but I’m not done talking. They have to hear the truth and they are going to hear it from their very own daughter.
“I’m not going to marry Sabelo, you can’t even force me to. I’m an adult and the law allows me to make my own choices.”
“You are our daughter and you will do as we say!” my mother must get high on something.
“I won’t! Do you think the Mthombeni family can accept a wife who is five months pregnant for another man?”
The silence that follows my question is eerie and too thick, it’s suffocating even.
“W-what did you say?” my father is sweating.
“I’m pregnant for my boyfriend and my sister knew about it—”
“O..Owethu—” my mother clutches to her chest and this is my cue to leave. She is about to start with her theatrics. “How…how could you?” she’s now kneeling on the floor and still clutching on her chest. I don’t understand why she’s fainting, I’m 26 for crying out loud and I’m definitely not a nun.
I leave the elders to attend to one of their own who’s acting up. I feel hot, I’m sweating profusely and breathing is a struggle.
“Are you okay?” that’s Sabelo as I bump into him.
“No, please take me to the doctor. My phone is in the spare bedroom, I need to call my boyfriend.”
“Okay, I’m coming, wait here,” he runs towards the house and I try and focus on my breath as Anele would advise me to. Now there’s commotion coming from the house. I turn to see and my fsther supporting his wife while my aunt is also on the other side.
“What’s wrong with her?” I ask, concerned.
“Stay away from her, you witch!” my aunt hisses. If my mother is dying because I refused to marry Sabelo, she might as well rest in eternal peace.
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