INSERT 6
Three Months Later….
SABELO
I had to voluntarily hand myself into a mental institution. It’s a private establishment so they have a fancy word for locking people in here but the main point remains—this is a place for crazy people. I have been here for two months and as much as settling in was hard, I’m glad I listened to Ndalo and booked myself in here. They have the best of staff and their facilities are top notch.
After receiving that text from Zipho, things went from bad to worse. I was accused of killing my wife so I could be with my baby mama. A baby mama that I did not know existed until the day of my wife’s burial. The fight between my in-laws and my family—who were trying to help me—was so tense that they ended up swearing at each other and promising to never talk again. I didn’t have anything to prove my innocence except the postmortem results so I just sat there and listened to them labeling me a devil and a murderer. I don’t know who kicked the Sibisi family out but they left and never returned. They didn’t even come to the family cleansing ceremony—a traditional ceremony that usually takes place ten days after burying a family member. I was hurt, but there was nothing I could do to make them understand.
In everything that happened with the Sibisi family, finding out that Owethu had blocked me was the last nail on my coffin. I thought she would have my back. I thought she would believe me but she too chose to go with the narrative that I killed Anele. She knew that I loved her sister so much I couldn’t even bear to see a cut on her finger, how was I the one to end her life? How could I have done something so cruel to the person I lived for? Realising that I was alone in this fight, I withdrew from everyone. I kept to myself, locked myself in the room but the silence in there was slowly driving me crazy. I could feel myself losing my mind and after Ndalo found me trying to end it all with poison, she convinced me to come to this place. I wasn’t sure about how good it would be for me to be surrounded by crazy people but it turns out Ndalo was right, I needed this.
“Mthombeni, good morning,” Nomvula greets.
“Hey, Nomvula. How are you?”
“I’m good. I just finished reading that book you forced me to read.”
“Which one? There are so many that I forced you to read.”
“The Animal Farm by George Orwell.”
“What did you learn?”
“That we are all equal in the eyes of the Lord but here on earth, some animals are more equal than others. Equality is an illusion that those who are more equal than others want us to believe in but in actual fact, they would rather we stay beneath them.”
“You understood it well. Now you won’t wonder why people behave the way they do after promotion at work,” I smile at her and we just sit in comfortable silence.
I met the gorgeous, kind and soft-spoken Nomvula in this facility. It was my second week, I was struggling to settle in so I pushed myself harder in the gym. Yes, this place has a gym, a swimming pool, sports ground, but access is limited. I think they study files and assess patients before granting permission to access these facilities. There I was, busy releasing my anger on the punching bag when I felt someone’s presence. I turned around and I’m not ashamed to say that her beauty stunned me to silence. Her dark skin glowed under the green string dress and her darker-brown eyes felt like they could see the future. I couldn’t take my eyes off her until she cleared her throat.
“Anger doesn’t solve your problems, it consumes you instead,” she spoke and I could have sworn an angel had spoken.
“I… I’m not angry,” I stammered. I don’t know why I was even stuttering all of a sudden.
“I have been watching you. You are so angry you don’t even believe in yoga and prayers that they subject us to every single day.”
“You don’t know me, Lady,” I said.
“I googled you. You just lost your wife—”
“Why would you do that?!” I got angry because why the hell was she googling my wife?
“I have too much time in my hands, I guess,” she shrugged. “You see that woman sitting out there and knitting?” she diverted my attention. “She hasn’t said a word in three years. Apparently, her sister took her husband and she couldn’t deal with the shock. You see that guy cutting the grass? He killed his father when he was fifteen, the family is trying to tap into a human inside him, you know. They want him to at least apologise to his mother for what he did but that guy gives zero phucks about his dead father. You see that one—”
“How long have you been in this place?”
“Six years—”
“What?” she didn’t look unhinged, she still doesn’t look like it even now.
“Yeah, into zomhlaba brought me here. But let’s not talk about it. Do you want to vent?”
“That’s female stuff,” I told her.
“If you really want to get out of here, you better start taking and releasing that anger. By the way, I’m Nomvula,” she said and left me wondering why a beautiful woman like her would be in this place for such a long time.
“Penny for your thoughts?” she says and I look at her. There’s something about her face that forces one to stare.
“I’m just thinking about my time here. I’m going to miss yoga, the prayers and your dry sense of humour,” I tease, she laughs.
“I’m not that bad, you know. I would be a comedian if South Africa respected talent enough.”
We both laugh.
“I’m going to miss you, hey. You have been a good friend and for once, I felt like I belonged somewhere and someone is actually seeing and acknowledging my presence,” she says.
“Why are you still here, Nomvula? You are not sick.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it for me, I have time.”
“No, not today. They allow visitors here every Saturday. When you go out, come and visit me and I will tell you. Bring me a Big Mac and their watermelon juice.”
“Consider it done.”
“Thanks. So, what’s next for you? Going back to work?”
“Something like that but there are things I have to sort out before I can choose my way forward.”
“I wish you nothing but the best,” she says with a smile.
“Thank you,” I take her soft hand into mine and squeeze it tight.
****
It is 3 in the afternoon and I’m heading to my last therapy session in this place. The sessions have been good and I will forever be grateful to them for the work they do. It comes at a cost, but it is all worth it. I knock on the door and Dr Gumede tells me to come in. I push the door open and walk in. Today he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, setting the mood to casual before he can even speak.
“Qwabe,” I greet.
“Mthombeni,” he says standing up and then shakes my hand. “You can sit. How are you feeling today?”
“Like I’m ready to face the world again.”
“You know that the unsolved problems you left out there will be waiting for you out there? Are you ready to deal with them?”
“I am. I already set up an appointment with Zipho. I want to know if the child is really mine and why she stayed away for so long.”
“That’s good. Remember to keep your composure in all this. We don’t want you back here or worse, in prison.”
“I have never been a violent man,” I assure him.
“The policies, have you decided how you are going to spend the money and not feel guilty about it?”
“First, I’m going to erect a beautiful tombstone for my wife. There’s a property she was eyeing, I think I will get it in her memory.”
“Don’t you think that will hinder you from moving on?”
“I haven’t thought about moving on in a sense of getting another woman, but when the time comes, I will see how to navigate it.”
“Moving on doesn’t mean you loved her any less, always remember that.”
“I will, thank you.”
“All the best going forward,” we shake hands again and I turn and walk out of her office. I’m so going to miss this place.
*****
ZIPHOZONKE
“Decide if you are going to stir that coffee forever or you are going to drink it,” my sister says in a harsh tone, as always. “Why do you look stressed? You didn’t lose your job, did you? God knows I can’t afford to feed you and your little brat—”
“His father is coming back and he wants to meet,” I finally tell her.
“He better start paying maintenance, that’s if the child is his.”
“What do you mean? He looks exactly like him. It’s his child.”
“Children can look like your ex boyfriend, especially when you left him yet you are still in love with him—”
“I don’t love him!”
“I’m not a kid, Zipho. You went to his wife’s funeral because you thought you could comfort him by showing up with a child you hid from him because you thought the grass was greener on the other side.”
“Why do you hate me this much?”
“I don’t. I wish that for once you would use your brains not your clit and the love of money. You could be having a good life if you didn’t fumble a good guy but no, you wanted a guy with flashy cars and expensive clothes yet you never saw him going to work even one day. What did you think? That he receives hard cash directly from his ancestors?”
“Sisi, I need your support. I know I messed up, but I need you.”
“Fix your mess, Zipho. I’m going to sleep, I had a long day,” she says and leaves me alone in the kitchen.
Sometimes I wish my parents were still alive, maybe they would care about me. I did not have a bad childhood, I had a good and protected childhood. Both my presents were still alive. My mother died when I was eleven and my father passed away when I was doing my final year at university. I was already dating Sabelo but my father’s passing felt like nothing made sense. He tried comforting me but it didn’t help. I started drifting away from him. I sought comfort from loud places, places Sabelo would never want to be found in. I started going out a lot and alone. I met friends who influenced me into things I’m not proud and will not tell a soul.
I met a guy who lived the life I was craving at the time—loud, flashy and carefree. I craved a life loud enough to dull the pain that I was feeling. I wanted to forget that I’m an orphan and Sthembiso offered that and more. We started traveling to different cities in search of our next high. We were always too sloshed or too high to remember where we were. Whenever we were not too high, we would f#ck until we pass out. We would wake up, eat, bath and his drivers would take us to the next destination. Life was good, too good that I even forgot that I was a student and had a boyfriend. Sabelo tracked me down and found me in Pretoria. It was going to be better if he had found me in a decent position, he found me in a club, naked and lap dancing on Sthembiso’s lap. Sthembiso’s hands were all over me and when I saw the disgust on Sabelo’s face, I knew he was done with me. He wanted to leave without saying a word but my ego wouldn’t have that. I ran to him—naked—and told him how pathetic he was. I rained insults at him until I was out of breath. He left and I never saw him again.
Reality hit when I missed my period…
“Mommy!” Sabelo Junior comes running. He jumps on the kitchen counter and sits in front of me like he always does.
“Hey baby,” I kiss him on the forehead. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
“I had a bad dream,” he says. He tells this lie every time he wants me to sleep in his bed.
“Okay. Let’s go and sleep.”
I pick up my phone just as it vibrates. I check the notification and it’s a text from Sabelo telling me the time and place for our meeting tomorrow.
‘Dear Lord, please help me. We have already established that Sthembiso is not the father, please let Sabelo be the father. Please Lord and I promise to praise and worship you all the days of my life.’
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