VOID Novel Chapter 5

SINENHLANHLA

My phone rings. I shove it deeper under the pillow. I need more sleep. I slept late last night. It’ll take time for me to get used to the hard floor. My spine aches. Sharing a blanket with Kayise is torture. She kicks in her sleep and splays her legs like she owns the whole space.

Lihle hasn’t been out of my mind since the past two days I met her. Just thinking about her makes my jaw clench. The memory of walking to school with torn shoes, soles flapping like wings, flares hot behind my eyes. No Christmas clothes, using rags as pads because there was no money for anything else. Each memory is a spark. Together, they’re a fire.

Siphokazi told me not to tell Kayise about Lihle. But with this rage in me, I’m tempted. Kayise loves fights. If she finds out Lihle’s here, spinning lies about ‘searching for us for twenty years,’ it will end with someone in hospital and the other in handcuffs.

The phone rings again. Kayise jabs my ribs. “I can’t be deprived of sleep by your phone. If you don’t want your boyfriend, block him. Simple.”

She’s stopped crying about her money. But she still mopes around the yard all day. I don’t know if she’s run out of energy… or clients.

“Who said it’s a boyfriend?” I mutter, fishing the phone out from under the pillow.

I freeze.

“Siphokazi,” I whisper, staring at the screen.

“Siphokazi, your mother?” Kayise sits up, eyes wide. “Didn’t she call yesterday before we slept?”

“Must I answer it?”

“Put it on loudspeaker.”

I tap the screen. “Hello, Mom.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”

“We’re fine.”

“Listen,” she says, voice unnervingly soft, “I spoke to your grandparents. They’re coming this afternoon. I bought you some clothes and toiletries too. And if my husband gets paid next week, I’ll send more money, clothes, everything.”

Kayise and I exchange a look. This isn’t Siphokazi. The last time she bought us clothes was when we left Bulawayo for the village. I was fifteen. Kayise, ten. That was it. Now she’s calling morning, noon, and night checking in like we’re made of glass. And suddenly, gifts? Lihle must be a permanent resident in this village. I could get used to this attention.

“Nhlanhla? Are you still there?”

I nod, as if she can see me. “We’re here.”

“I just want you to know that no matter what life throws at you, you have me. I may not be perfect, but I’m all you’ve got. Don’t let outsiders come between us and destroy what we have.”

Kayise snatches the phone. “Mom, are you okay? People are dying of cancer these days. Your speech sounds like someone on their deathbed, confessing sins so they can get into heaven.”

“Mind your words you fool. I’m your mother.”

“I’m just saying, since when are you nice? We were literally talking about how weird your calls have been and___”

I nudge her hard and shoot her a warning glare.

“Okay, Mom. Bye.” She ends the call and turns to me. “What’s so wrong about telling the truth?”

“You love drama, don’t you? Weren’t you scolding me for accusing Chimney of burning the house, and today you’re roasting Mom like she committed a crime?”

“Siphokazi deserves every bit of meanness in this world. Just because she’s feeling holy these days doesn’t erase that she’s a useless mother. She loves her husband more than she’s ever loved us.”

“I don’t blame her,” I say quietly. “Dad died when she was young. Maybe she thought remarrying was her only way out.”

“Don’t excuse nonsense,” Kayise snaps. “She didn’t have to marry a man who hates us. He didn’t need to carry us on his back, but he could’ve let her be in our lives instead of dumping us here like we’re garbage.”

I scoff. “That same fire in you? Aim it at your paternal grandparents. Mom did her best. Imagine pregnant, widowed, kicked out with nothing. It was too much.”

“Trust me the day I meet anyone from my father’s family; we’ll spend the whole day talking. I will even demand a report explaining everything in detail as to why they abandoned us.”

I stare at her and shake my head. “You won’t even have the sanity to ask all of that. You will be angry and disgusted. Knowing that someone lived a life that was supposed to be yours hurts so much.”

“I blame Siphokazi in all this. Why didn’t she fight for what was rightfully hers? She could’ve reported them. But no, she chose to secure a future for herself. A new husband, new kids. Like we never existed.”

We could argue all day. I let her be, hating Siphokazi instead of the people responsible for our suffering.

A sound of branches being chopped cuts the air outside. I stand up and stretch myself before heading outside. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Chimney is at the edge of our garden, hammering new poles into the ground, weaving thorny branches into a taller fence.

We haven’t spoken since the day I accused him of burning my house. I’ve been avoiding him, ducking behind corners, pretending not to see him. And now he’s here, in our garden without asking.

“Hello,” I say, voice tight.

“Morning, Nhlanhla.” He doesn’t look up. “I noticed your fence was low no wonder goats kept getting in. I lost four already. I’ll fix it before I lose more.”

“Oh.”

That day, anger made me say cruel things, things I didn’t mean and things he was never supposed to know about. I don’t know if we’ll ever get back to what we were before.

“Thank you for the clothes. We washed them and __”

“You’re going to the school meeting today?” he asks.

“There’s a meeting?”

“How can you not know something happening at your work place? Social workers will be talking to parents about mental health and child protection systems.”

“Oh that. I’m not attending. I’m still taking days off,” I lie.

My stomach drops. I can’t tell him I was suspended or fired; I haven’t had the energy to find out. I would love to attend such a meeting but knowing that Lihle will be there makes me lose interest. It’s useless, I won’t even listen to them, I will be thinking of ways of strangling her. At least Kayise isn’t a student or a parent, that’s the only grace I get today.

I miss work, I also miss people who would come and ask about the fire sending consolation messages. Now life is back to normal. It’s as if they stopped caring. As if the fire was just a passing storm. It’s just us and these four blackened walls, whispering what was and might never be, again.

In the afternoon Sibongile arrives. I’m expecting her to be concerned about the burnt house and even asking the stupid questions of how we survived and what we saved in the house, but she doesn’t, the first thing she says is, “Thanks to you and the Ndlovu people, who want to kidnap you, now I had to cut my trip short.”

“I tried calling the day the house burned,” I say, ignoring her drama about being kidnapped. I know that’s what Siphokazi said to her.

“You wanted us to come put out the fire?” Methembe asks, angrily. I’m used to him, he’s always angry or shouting he doesn’t scare me anymore.

“No, Khulu… I just wanted—” I stop. I realise they don’t care. I wonder if it was their house burnt they would have acted this way.

I feel so alone, so empty. All I needed was for them to at least carry the pain with me. Even strangers did a better job, I know I used to hate it, but those pity stares, I now realise they’re better than nonchalance.

NARRATED

Velaphi secures the last log in the kraal and walks home. From the yard, he hears singing.

He stands at the door, smiling. Then, not wanting to seem like a ghost, he steps in.

“I thought I was lost,” he says. “I had to check twice if this was home.”

She turns. “Why? What happened?”

“I’d forgotten you sing like this.”

“Ohooo!” She laughs. “How can you forget when you married me for my angelic voice! I only sing when my spirit’s light.”

He pulls a chair, sits, and hands her a large plastic bag. “Mushrooms. From the forest.”

Linda opens it and her eyes brighten. “I’ll cook them by daylight, making sure none are poisonous.”

“How many years have I brought you mushrooms?” Velaphi asks with a chuckle.

“I’m not taking chances with my life. I don’t want to die before I meet my grandchildren.”

“As if they’re coming tomorrow.”

“They are coming.” Her voice firms. “You think they’ll appear just to vanish again?”

The helper enters, places Velaphi’s plate on the table and slips out. Linda’s phone rings. One glance and she smiles.

“Lihle? What other good news do you have to give me peaceful sleep?”

“You’re not complaining about the late call?”

“Did you see Sinenhlanhla again?”

“No. I doubt I’ll ever see her again.”

Linda’s gaze flicks to Velaphi. “Why do you say that? Something happened?”

“Not really. We had the parent meeting today. And… did I tell you? Sinenhlanhla is a splitting image of me. Even the gap in her teeth.”

“She takes after her father, not you, Lihle.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s gone. I’m the one who looks like her now.” Linda’s voice softens. “A man approached me after the meeting, neighbour of Nhlanhla and Kayise. He asked if I was her sister. I said aunt. He seemed surprised and happy to see me Kayise s a girl, Mom.”

Linda closes her eyes. A lifetime of longing wraps around her. “Does she resemble her father too?”

“Light-skinned, they say. Their house burned. They lost everything.” Lihle’s voice cracks. “When I heard, I couldn’t hold back. I cried.”

“There’s nothing to cry for,” Linda says gently. “Sometimes you must lose everything to gain what truly matters. Did you ask about Siphokazi?”

“Married to a high-ranking soldier and lives in Bulawayo. Those girls raised themselves because practically the grandparents are always away.”

Linda’s breath hitches. “Pharaoh’s relatives! If they didn’t want them, why didn’t they bring them to me?”

“I couldn’t bear it,”Lihle whispers. “I left my team to finish without me. I’m driving to Bulawayo now. But… I forgot to ask for their number. Or the neighbour’s.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Lihle. You did nothing wrong.”

“When I get time, I’ll drive back to Kezi—”

“No.” Linda’s voice is steel. “You’re not driving anywhere. They will come here. On their own. With nothing but tears.”

“What do you mean with nothing?”

“Your line’s breaking, Lihle. Hello? Hello?”

She ends the call. Silence stretches in the room.

Velaphi stops eating and watches her. “Do you think they’ll come before it’s too late?”

“They have to.”

He sighs. “I’m just afraid. Lihle said they’re navigating life alone. Without guidance, they could suffer for years. Maybe we’re being selfish.”

“Selfish?” Linda’s voice rises. “Selfish is Siphokazi! If she knew she couldn’t mother Nhlanhla, why didn’t she leave her with us? I don’t care what it takes this time. As long as those girls aren’t under this roof. I won’t stop asking Butho to fight.”

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My apologies, i have power problems. If you see me awol, it’s not neglect. Please bear with me