NURSE THEMBENI
CHAPTER 10
THEMBENI
There’s an old gogo arguing with the receptionist about her appointment card, and it’s not even 9am yet. I dump my bag in the locker, tie my hair back quick, and try to look like I didn’t just survive a family meeting from hell.
Sister Dlamini is waiting at the nurses’ station, arms folded, one eyebrow up. I haven’t opened my mouth yet and she’s judging my whole life. I haven’t forgotten her betrayal, but I can’t ask her because we are not friends and she owes me nothing.
“Thembeni, you’re late… again.”
“Three minutes, sister Dlamini. That’s not late.”
She snorts, she’s not in a good mood today.
“Tell that to the patients. Room 4. Mrs Ndlovu. She’s been asking for you since she arrived.”
Not her again. She just wants to traumatize me further.
“Why me? That woman scares me, Sister Dlamini.”
She laughs, I didn’t catch the joke.
“Since when? You were with her just yesterday.”
“That was before she prophesied on me, nothing has been going right since.”
“You don’t say?” She folds her arms, giving me an inquisitive stare. “I’m listening, and maybe you will use this moment to tell me why the chief was here last night threatening to fire me and everyone in this hospital. And I mean everyone but you, Thembeni.”
She’s such a good liar.
“Why would he do that?” I ask.
“Because I wouldn’t tell him where you were, I almost lost my job covering up for you. You owe me, Thembeni.”
She blew my cover, I don’t owe her anything anymore.
“At least you were threatened with your job, Sister. Imagine I have to marry him, that’s a life sentence I am not ready for.”
She looks at me like I became careless with my marbles and lost them all.
“You don’t want to marry him?”
“Should I?” I ask.
She shrugs her shoulders and sighs.
“It’s your life sisi, you have to make the choice. I know how it’s like to marry someone you don’t love. Once you’re in, there is no going out.”
That is terrible, I don’t want to be bound.
“But if you love him, then go in, with your legs wide open. I have seen men loving their women. Themi, people are loved out there. You find yourself writing a letter to God asking if you were the one who invented the nails they pierced Him with.
It’s clear now that sister Dlamini is in a loveless marriage. I should go before she goes deeper, dumping her baggage on me. I’m too burdened to be carrying other people’s business.
“The patient has been waiting, let me go.”
I grab the vitals trolley and head down the corridor, dodging a kid running with a drip stand, he thinks is a toy.
Mrs Ndlovu is sitting up in bed, blanket pulled to her chest. I feel for her if she has to be here every day, unless she just comes for visits now. I don’t trust her. Her face always lights up when she sees me, I’m also surprised that she remembers me whenever she’s here. Her memory is one of the things her family stresses about.
“I have been waiting for you, Thembeni. Come.”
I drop into the plastic chair next to her.
“Sawubona, Gogo. I didn’t know you were coming again?”
She smiles and pats the bed.
“Come closer, I don’t bite.”
People who say they don’t bite have canine teeth. I laugh despite myself and start the routine, BP cuff on her skinny arm, thermometer under her tongue, listen to her chest. Everything looks okay, better than okay, actually.
Why is she here?
“Your numbers are good, Gogo. You eating proper?”
“Eh, they feed me pap and gravy like I’m a baby. But I’m alive, so I can’t complain too much.”
Those kids of hers, when I catch them.
“You’re doing fine, keep taking the pills.” I mark the chart.
She waves her hand.
“Pills, pills. That’s not why I called you.”
Here we go. I lean back, crossing my arms. If the matron finds me in this position, my day will end.
“Okay, spill. What’s the drama today?” I say.
She looks at me serious now.
“I see you’re carrying two heavy bags, child. One bag full of money that shines but burns your hands. The other bag full of respect and tradition, but it’s dirty and covered with blood.”
Mkhululi sent her to finish me off. What is she talking about now?
“Gogo, you sound like those prophets on TV who sell miracle water. Just say it straight.”
She chuckles. “Nothing I said is confusing, my child. You know what I am talking about.”
That’s what she thinks. She’s talking in parables and I don’t understand.
“You’re not stupid. You know money buys nice things but doesn’t buy peace. Titles buy respect but don’t buy freedom. So what are you going to do?” She says.
Did I come to work? Or to school? This is a hard lesson. It’s no doubt she is talking about Golide and Chief Menzi.
“Gogo, you think I have time to choose? In three days they’re dragging me to a wedding whether I like it or not.”
She clicks her tongue.
“Three days is long enough to say no. Or short enough to wake up married and crying every night. Your choice.” She says.
I stand up, tucking the chart away.
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one with brothers who think they own my future.”
She grabs my wrist lightly before I can leave.
“Child, brothers can shout, but they can’t live your life. You’re the one who has to sleep next to the man every night. You’re the one who has to look in the mirror and like who’s looking back.”
I pull my hand back gently, not wanting to offend her.
“I know, Gogo. I know.”
She smiles. “Then make a choice and when you decide, don’t let anyone make you feel small for it. Your destiny is far beyond your reach Thembeni, and the right man will take you there.”
I nod, my throat suddenly feels a bit tight.
“I’ll bring you tea later, with two sugars. You deserve it for being nosy.”
We are not allowed, but I have snuck in tea for her before.
She laughs. “Make it three, nosy old women need extra sweet.”
I walk out laughing and shaking my head. Mrs Ndlovu didn’t fix anything, but she reminded me what I keep forgetting, this mess is mine to sort.
.
.
The shift is dragging like it always does. Sister Dlamini offered to buy me lunch. She wants to hear more about the chief wanting to marry me. Not that thats my favourite thing to talk about, that’s why the only people who knew were Nala and Qondi, my closest friend.
My patients have too many complaints today, to think my problems couldn’t get any worse, the smell of hospital disinfectant makes my nose itch.
I’m in Room 6 helping an old uncle who swears his leg pain is because his neighbour’s goat looked at him funny last full moon. I’m multitasking, listening, and on the side thinking about how much longer until I can clock out and pretend this place doesn’t exist, when Qondi pokes her head in the door.
“Themi! Director’s office, now. Someone’s waiting for you.”
I pause with the thermometer in my hand.
“Who? Gumede finally coming to apologise for being late every single day?”
Qondi laughs, leaning on the doorframe.
“Nah, chommie. They said it’s a big visitor. Suit and tie, Sister Dlamini said he looked important. Probably the president himself coming to thank you for saving lives.”
We both crack up. The uncle looks confused, but we’re already laughing too hard to care.
“President? Haibo, tell him I’m busy saving the nation one temperature at a time,” I say, handing the uncle his chart.
Qondi laughs harder. “Go, go. Don’t keep His Excellency waiting. And if it’s the president, take a photo.”
She offers to finish up for me, I smooth my uniform, and head down the corridor. My mind is running through the possibilities: maybe a patient’s family complaining, maybe some inspector checking files, or Mkhululi sending someone to drag me home early for wedding prep nonsense. But president? No chance. Still, the joke with Qondi has me smiling as I knock on the director’s office door.
“Come in,” a deep voice says from inside.
I push the door open and step in, and everything stops. Sitting behind the director’s big desk, legs crossed, hands folded as if he owns the building… which, knowing him, he probably could if he wanted… is Chief Hlongwane Senior. Menzi’s father. Ngiyabonga Hlongwane.
He’s always in these flashy colorful suits, a gold watch that threatens to blind me and a fashionable hat. He looks confident and a little too excited,
My mouth goes dry. I stand there like an idiot for two seconds before I remember to greet.
“Sawubona, Baba.”
He smiles, his smile always makes me feel small.
“Sawubona, KaMajola. Come in, sit down. Close the door.”
I close it behind me, walk to the chair opposite him, and sit. What the hell is the chief’s father doing here? In the director’s office? Waiting for me?
He leans forward a little, elbows on the table.
“You look surprised to see me.”
“I am, I didn’t expect… this.”
He nods as if he understands.
“I won’t waste your time. I know you’re busy with work. You’re a good nurse, hard-working, dedicated. That’s why I came myself instead of sending someone.”
I wait, no point in small talk when a man like this shows up unannounced.
“I know about the other man… the one who’s been giving you money. Picking you up after shifts, buys you things. Mehlokazulu. Golide, as you and your friends call him.”
This man had people digging into my life? Watching me? My private business? I can’t believe him.
“You had no right to spy on me, my life is mine.”
He keeps that calm face. “I’m not spying on you, I’m protecting my son’s future and yours. You’re going to be part of this family in three days. We look after our own.”
I cross my arms. “I haven’t said yes to anything yet.”
He smiles again. “You will, but let’s talk business first. I know you love money, KaMajola. You’re not ashamed of it, you work hard, you want better, you’re tired of this job that pays peanuts and makes your feet hurt every day. I respect that. Most girls pretend they don’t care about money, you don’t pretend.”
I don’t answer because he’s not wrong, but hearing it from him feels dirty.
“Chief Hlongwane loves you. He wants you, and it’s not because the elders said so. My son has real feelings for you, KaMajola. But I know you’re not sure about him. So I’m here to make it easy.”
He pauses, watching me
“What are you talking about?”
“Marry my son in three days, be his wife, be uNdlunkulu, sit where you belong. And in return, I will give you R5 million. Cash. Your own account, no questions. No strings after the wedding. You’ll have your freedom to do whatever you want, travel, buy what you like, help your family, leave this clinic behind forever if you want. R5 million, Thembeni. Think about it.”
I am thinking. Five million rand? Five. Million. That’s not just money, that’s escape money. That’s buy-a-house-in-Durban-and-never-look-back money. That’s never-fetch-water-from-the-river-again money. That’s tell-Mkhululi-to-shut-up-and-mind-his-own-business money.
I want to yell because who does he think he is, coming here to bribe me like I’m for sale? But the number is so big it sticks in my throat. My hands are suddenly cold, my heart is banging so loud I swear he can hear it.
He watches me, he’s still calm and kind.
“Does Menzi know you are here, bribing me”
“Call him Chief Hlongwane, like you always have. Why Menzi now? You’re getting familiar too soon.” he says.
That snaps me out of it a little.
“Because he asked me to call him Menzi, and I’m not your property to tell what to call him.” I say.
“You’re strong and good. My son needs a strong wife. But think about the offer. R5 million, no more struggling, no more sore feet. No more counting coins at the till. Just… freedom, the kind you’ve always wanted. Take your time. Three days is enough to decide, the money will be ready the moment you say yes at the ceremony.” He says.
What kind of a test is this?
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