VOID Novel Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

SINENHLANHLA

Kayise stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. I’m slumped by the gate where I fell face-first into the dirt, nose split open, blood dripping onto my shirt. My mouth tastes metallic. I keep spitting saliva tinged red, pressing a crumpled tissue to my nose to stop the flow.

“I swear, Kayise, I was running. All the way from the school gate to here. And the second I reached this gate, my leg just… stopped.”

“You’re so desperate to be okay,” she says softly, “and I want that for you too. But there’s no need to make up stories.”

“I’m not making it up! I was healed.”

“And got unhealed the moment you hit the gate?” She crosses her arms. “Did anyone see you running without those crutches?”

I rack my brain. The path was empty. “No one saw me.”

She rolls her eyes and lets out a long, weary sigh. Then she offers her hand. “Come on, Nyawana. When the time is right, you’ll walk again. No need to lie.”

I yank her hand away. Frustration boils over. I’m not crazy. I walked all by myself all the way from school. Just because no one saw it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

“I was on the phone with Lihle when it happened,” I say, “I didn’t tell her exactly what happened but she must’ve heard me scream.”

“Which Lihle? Our aunt?”

“Yes. I got her number from Gift. I called her.”

That gets her attention. Her posture shifts. “You spoke to her? What did she say? Did she say she’s coming to fetch us?”

All she cares about is Lihle. Not my leg. Not my pain. Just the chance to run to Plumtree.

“We talked about a lot of things, Kayise and I felt pain in the incisions, especially the one on my ankle. That’s the one that hurt most. My leg then moved and all was well, until I reached the gate.

“Call her! I want to talk to her. Did you tell her about me? Did you tell her our house burned and I lost the R10K I was saving to go look for them?”

“Saving for what?” I snap. This girl is unbelievable. Not only was she hoarding money in secret, she was planning a solo mission to find our father’s family without telling me. “You were going to leave me here alone? Do you even know which village they stay in?”

“That’s why I saved so much, to go village to village asking!” Her voice rises. “Call Lihle now. Tell her I’m here.”

I shake my head, stunned. What more secrets is Kayise harbouring? I pull out my phone, scroll to Lihle’s number, and press dial. Loudspeaker on.

‘The number you have dialled does not exist.’

I stare at Kayise. My fingers jab the screen again. Same message.

“You sure you spoke to her?” she asks, eyes narrowing.

“You think I’d make this up?” I pull up my call log, tap her number. It shows the call duration of less than three seconds. The incoming call is not there.

I shake my head in disbelief. “Something is not right, I spoke to Lihle. She said I could tell her anything I’m comfortable sharing. Kayise, I’m not losing my mind.”

“I didn’t say anything—”

“But you think I am!”

“I heard you scream when I was in the kitchen and I found you on the ground, yet you say you ran all the way from school, and now the call log shows nothing. Do you see how that looks?”

“Kayise, I know weird things have been happening to me, but you have to trust me. I spoke to her. I even told her you call me Nyawana, and she laughed, saying you’re wrong to call me that.”

“You spoke to her on a number that doesn’t exist?” Her voice drops, sharp with pity. “Girl, you need to have your wires checked. Something’s really wrong with you.”

“You know me. Since when have I ever lied to you about—”

“Hey! Hey!” Sibongile’s voice cuts through the yard. “You’ve been sitting by that gate for over an hour! Who’s cooking?”

We lock eyes. Kayise blinks fast, tears glistening, unshed. “I don’t know you anymore, Sinenhlanhla,” she whispers. “I hope you seek help. You’re getting worse.”

She turns and walks away. Watching her go feels like my soul is being ripped out through my ribs. I stay seated, tears streaming, nose throbbing, hands trembling, lips quivering.

“Kayise!” I call after her. “Kayise, please, wait for me!”

She doesn’t look back I watch her until she disappears into the kitchen. Despair crashes over me like floodwater. Nothing prepared me for this. Not the house burning. Not the leg failing. Not the mouth twisting sideways. But Kayise turning her back on me, that’s the deepest cut. All I wanted was for her to say: ‘I believe you, Nhlanhla.’

The past days have been a storm ,she saw my face freeze mid-sentence, but now she thinks I’m mad. Maybe I am. But even in madness, I expected her to stand with me. Like we always have.

On my butt, I drag myself to one crutch, haul myself up, then grab the other. Instead of heading home, I limp toward Chimney’s place. He’s bent over his fowl run, twisting wire.

“Hey,” I say in a low voice. “Sorry for coming unannounced.”

He turns, squints, then tosses his pliers to the ground.

“Ah, Nhlanhla. Didn’t see you there.”

I offer a smile through tears, unsure what to say. He steps closer, coiling wire in one hand. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“I lost my job today,” I sniff. “And for a moment, my leg worked, then it stopped. I know it sounds crazy, but I spoke to Lihle, and then she just disappeared, and I fell, and I—”

“Woah, Nhlanhla. Slow down.”

I lift my eyes, heart sinking. “You don’t believe me either?”

He gives a faint smile. “I never said that. Come let’s sit and tell me everything.”

Under the mango tree, I pour it all out: the firing, the call, the miracle walk, the fall and the vanishing call duration. I watch his face, bracing for the verdict of ‘you’re imagining things.’

Instead, he nods slowly. “I do believe you, Sinenhlanhla.”

Relief floods me. Tears spill over. At least someone believes me.

“You do?”

“Yes. And I’m glad you connected with your aunt. She might hold answers to everything.”

“You mean she’s the one bewitching me?”

“No,” he says firmly. “I never said ‘witch.’ Don’t jump to conclusions. With ancestral matters, one plus one is never two. Move with caution. Blame the wrong person, and you’ll find yourself in real trouble.”

“How do I navigate this, then?”

He shrugs. “Keep connecting with her. Maybe things will become clearer. Maybe you’ll finally see the message being sent.”

But how do I connect with someone whose call log vanishes? I don’t ask him that. He’s trying his best to help me even though I killed his goats. I lean against the tree and close my eyes. Going home means facing Kayise judging me and calling me a lunatic. I’ll stay here today. At least Chimney believes me.

*****

Linda steps into Butholezwe’s old room and shuts the door softly behind her. She lights a small candle on the windowsill, its flame trembling in the damp air. Then she walks to the corner where her shrine is set up. An ancestral cloth, a clay bowl, a bundle of dried herbs.

With a sigh, she kneels and lifts the old photo of her son. The edges are worn soft from years of handling. His face is blurred now, not just by time, but by the salt of her tears. She presses it to her chest. And, as she always does, she begins her mantra:

“Bring your girls home.

You’ve found them, now bring them home.

Make them think of you.

Whenever your name is spoken, let them grow restless.

Take their peace. Strip it away, until they remember their roots.

Lead Sinenhlanhla to bring her sister home.

Take everything from them until they -.”

Her phone rings. In the old days, she’d ignore it. But now, Lihle brings news of her.

“Lihle.”

“Hey, Mom. You sound breathless, is your blood pressure okay?”

“I’m fine, my girl. Just walking. Exercising.”

“Oh…” A pause. Lihle chooses her words carefully. “I spoke to Nhlanhla today. She called me.”

“Really? That’s good.”

“It is, but not a good call. Don’t panic, Mom… but she’s not okay. She was in tears. Broken. It took everything in me not to cry with her. I had to switch into professional mode just to be strong for her. She says her leg stopped working, her mouth twisted, she lost her job, all in one week, after the house burned.”

“Okay.”

“Mom. That’s all you can say? I thought you’d ask me to drive you there!”

“For what? I told you they’ll come home. No need to chase them.”

“Come home with what? Didn’t you hear she lost her job? I was thinking of driving over the weekend—”

“Don’t.”

“Mom, is there something you’re not telling me? After years of crying for them, now you’re calm? Even though they’re suffering?”

“Lihle, trust me, your brother will bring his blood home. If they don’t come within a month, then they’re not his.”

“Mom, no! You went back to that ritual? The one we agreed not to do?”

“What choice did I have?”

Lihle takes a shaky breath. “Sinenhlanhla is hurting. She’s your grandchild. Whatever you’re doing, it’s hurting her, not Sibongile or her mother. We know where they are now. Let me drive you. Sit down. Talk. Ask to have them.”

“Never.” Linda’s voice hardens. “I won’t speak to Sibongile. That woman looked me in the eye and said I was k$lling my grandkids while her own daughter carried a rotten womb. She blamed me for her miscarriages. She didn’t even come to my son’s funeral to offer condolences, not even a mere phone call.”

“Mom, can’t you set your differences aside—”

“Lihle, stay away from this. I’m bringing my grandchildren home the African way.”

She pauses. The candle flickers. “The only words I have for Sibongile are, Challenge.

Let’s see who laughs last.”

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