NURSE THEMBENI
CHAPTER 13
THEMBENI
The car pulls up outside my gate, the driver gets out first. He’s a quiet man in a neat uniform, barely said a word on our way here. He opens my door and that makes me feel like I’m someone important. I step out and he shuts the door.
“Thank you.”
His smile stretches, I don’t know why his light complexion has to remind me of that man made of charcoal. I find it funny that I can’t see Mehlo’s face in this darkness, but this man standing before me is visible.
“I was instructed to walk you to your door.” The driver says.
“Oh! By who?” I ask because I didn’t hear Mehlo say any of that.
“Mr. Mehlo, ma’am. He sent a text, the queen is afraid of the dark?”
That’s a question by the way, I know because his eyebrows are raised. I did say this man is yellow bone and the moon is giving him that moon-kissed glow in the dark.
“Please, I am not a queen.”
Mehlo must stop this confuse Thembeni mission, he can’t push me away and call me his queen with the same strength. I walk ahead, the driver catches up. At least today if I get caught, I will be telling the truth when I say he’s my driver.
He walks me right to the door, I bet Mehlo told him to. I dig for my keys and mumble, “Thank you, bhuti. Drive safe.”
He nods once but waits for me to enter my rondavel. It feels strange having him stand there while I push my door closed. I only hear his footsteps fade away after I have completely shut my door.
I drop my bag right on the floor, I have no energy left for neatness. The mattress creaks when I drop onto it face-first.
There’s a soft knock, my back hasn’t even tasted rest yet.
“Themi, nana, are you in there?”
Nana? Since when? What kind of bad luck did my village people send this time?
“Can I come in?”
What does Philile want? I don’t say anything because I know she will let herself in without permission. And in deed, the door opens and she walks in. She’s wrapped in a robe, a satin bonnet on her head.
“You’re back?”
As she can see.
“Your food is in the kitchen. Do you want me to bring it for you?”
Huh! Did I walk into the wrong yard? Is this my sister in-law offering me food?
I lift my tired body from the bed and judge her with a stare.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
She looks confused. “Why do you say that? Yes everything is fine.”
My sister, you’re too nice it’s suspicious. I will not be eating that food she’s offering. This is what I hate about the village, where is UberEats when you need it?
“Where are my brothers?”
I have to raise questions in case she wants to kill me and hide my body.
“They are not back yet.” She says.
They all work at the royal farm, sometimes they stay after hours doing extra work.
“What about my parents?”
She looks at me suspiciously, that’s my job. I mean, why is she here, offering me food? I can’t die before I buy my dream car and drive it for at least 50 more years.
“Who was that guy that dropped you?”
Ah! There it is, the rock that was sitting in her chest.
“He’s no one.”
She doesn’t believe me. She sits on my bed, uninvited. If Mkhulili finds her, he will throw her on the roof. He’s told her before that we are not friends, but Philile is Philile, she doesn’t know when to set boundaries.
“That dark man from this morning.”
What sin have I committed to deserve this?
“Is he really the king of KwaZulu?” She’s whispering because she knows her husband is against this.
“I don’t know, Philile.”
“How do you not know, Thembeni? You brought him here.”
“I didn’t bring anyone here.”
What is she trying to do? No one in this house knows Mehlo came back, unless this one was peeping through the window like she always does. Then again, that would make her a witch because it was around midnight.
“Do you love him?”
Yoh!
“Listen Thembeni, I think you should let Ntando be the one to marry the chief. She’s more beautiful, and she’s wife material.”
Is that an insult?
“What are you trying to say, Philile?”
“That marrying into royalty will not make you a good girl. You’re a bad bitch, Themi. Through and through, you’re like that brother of yours, uNgcwele. I’m sorry, but there is nothing Holy about your brother, shame.”
Why is my innocent brother catching strays?
“The throne will swallow you, mntase.”
Yoh, as if she’s the expert on my life. She’s been grooming Ntando to be the next ndlunkulu since the day she found out I was arranged to be married to the chief.
“You and the chief are different, you will never be compatible.” She says.
Translation: The chief is boring, predictable, zero spark. And she’s not lying.
Anyway, she wants her daughter locked in as the safe choice so she can brag to her family about how her side of the family “secured” the chief.
“Ntando can marry whoever she wants, Philile. It does not concern me.”
What’s with the huge smile?
“Are you sure?” She asks and attacks me with a hug. “Thank you Themi, I will tell your brother you said Ntando should be the one marrying into the royal family.”
She jumps from my bed with that huge smile of hers and pounces to the door like a kangaroo. I’m scared for her back, she will crack it if she’s not careful.
She opens my door, then turns to me. Now I’m no longer worried her sanity, but the moths flying in.
“Yazi, if I really, really look at you Themi. You’re not that ugly shem, baby. You and that dark man suit each other perfectly, you will make nice babies. Coke and Fanta.” She smiles and walks out.
Did Mkhululi find her at an asylum? Stupid woman.
I roll onto my back, my phone is face down beside me. I know there’s a missed call from Mehlo. I saw it in the car, I still haven’t opened it properly. What does he want now? To say sorry for the goodbye hug? To remind me we’re done? Or confuse me even more?
Izingane Zoma ‘Isfebe sendoda’ blasts my phone. I set this as his ring tone on the way here, that’s how mad he’s made me. Yep, he’s calling me. I let it ring twice before I answer.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, are you home safe?” His voice is almost gentle, like he’s scared I’ll hang up.
“The driver dropped me, I’m in my rondavel.”
“Are you safe, Themi?”
Oh, he wants me to say the word.
“Yes, Mehlokazulu. I am safe.”
There’s long silence that follows, I have a lot to say. But I will be wasting my breath.
“Good night, Themi.”
“Good night,” I say it back because what else is there?
He ends the call first.
I throw the phone across the bed. This man is a walking red flag with abs. One minute he’s calling me phakade lami like I’m his forever, the next he’s shoving me out the door like I’m bad luck. Pick a lane, Mehlo. Or better yet, stop driving me crazy.
I check WhatsApp quick, there is nothing from Menzi. Either he forgot he was supposed to fetch me, or he’s sulking because I didn’t stand there like a statue waiting for His Highness.
I want to march over to my dad’s rondavel right now and demand answers. “Baba, who is Zanemvula? Why does Ngiyabonga know you? What’s the deal with this throne nonsense?” But they’re both asleep by seven, their village rules, made by them. I’ll have to wait till morning, and that’s going to drive me up the wall.
Yoh, Thembeni. Your cup runneth over… with drama. Sleep, girl. Sleep.
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MENZI
I didn’t go to fetch Thembeni today because Ma said she needed me at home to look at the wedding outfits, to see which suit made me look more like a chief and less like a boy playing dress-up, and I haven’t had time to call Thembeni and explain, but I already know she didn’t wait at the gate because she’s not that girl who waits for a man to decide when she’s important.
She would have stood there for maybe five minutes, checked her phone once, adjusted her bag on her shoulder, and then walked back inside with her head high, telling herself she doesn’t chase anyone, not even the future king.
And the thing is, I respect that about her.
But right now I can’t even think straight about her because Ma has been pacing up and down the lounge for the past ten minutes, her heels making that annoying sound against the tiles, her arms folded so tight across her chest that the veins in her hands look like they might burst.
“So you’re telling me Bab’ Mpondo saw Mehlokazulu today, and sang his praises?” she says, stopping right in front of me. In her head, I personally arranged it.
I have been wanting to tell her and baba about this morning. The time has presented itself
“Yes, Ma. Everyone heard.”
I can still see it clearly in my mind. The way Bab’ Mpondo’s knees hit the ground without hesitation. Her face changes, shock first, then anger before the same fear I have been seeing on my father takes over.
“And what did you do?” she demands. “You just stood there like a statue?”
“What could I do?” I ask, and even to my own ears I sound tired. “Thank God for Mkhululi he jumped in fast. He pulled Bab’ Mpondo up and made it seem like he was mistaken. If not for him Thembeni would have questioned my place on the throne.”
Ma clicks her tongue so hard it echoes.
“We can’t risk this slipping through our fingers because old men are feeling nostalgic. Keep Mkhululi close, very close. We need someone like him, he understands how this works. He’ll be the one to put Thembeni in her place when she starts thinking she has options.”
She sounds exactly like her husband.
“Ma,” I say carefully, because when she gets like this you have to measure every word, “she’s not a dog to be put in her place, she’s your future daughter in-law.”
She waves her hand at me. “You know what I mean, Menzi. Don’t act fresh with me, thanks to your grandfather, my son has to marry some poor girl who only baths when she’s not too lazy to go fetch water at the river. Had it been up to me, you would be marrying someone of royal blood. Not that villager with dark armpits and no manners.”
There it is again, the throne. Always the throne, it feels like there’s no space in this house for anything else, not even basic honesty.
A deep voice comes from the doorway before I can respond.
“Your son is getting too soft for my liking.”
Baba walks in and drops onto the couch next to me, leg crossing over the other. Ma turns to him immediately.
“How did it go at the hospital?” She asks.
“Not as planned. She was reluctant, very reluctant. I think she’s falling for that boy, if she hasn’t already. No one turns down five million rand unless her heart is somewhere else.” He says.
For a second I think I misheard him.
I sit up. “Five million? Baba, we agreed on five hundred thousand. We don’t have five million.”
The only reason I agreed is because I saw how Thembeni looked at Mehlo this morning. I have no chance in winning her over.
My father smiles at me.
“Exactly but KaMajola doesn’t know that and you won’t tell her. She’ll find out after the wedding that there is no money waiting.”
“You’re serious, baba?” I know he is, I’m just shocked.
“Dead serious. Once she’s your wife and we have secured the throne, I will drop the bomb, that there is no money.” He laughs.
I look from him to Ma, hoping one of them will say they’re joking, that this is just strategy talk that won’t actually happen. She’s laughing with her husband.
“I don’t like this, Baba. Not even a little.”
He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter what you like, Menzi. It matters that we keep this throne, that’s all that has ever mattered.”
I want to ask him if that’s true. If that’s really all that has ever mattered, more than me, more than my mother. More than the blood that was spilled twenty years ago that no one talks about but everyone feels.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table and the sound makes me jump, it’s from an unsaved number.
For a second I think about ignoring it, letting it ring and pretending I didn’t see it. But curiosity tells me to answer.
“Hello?”
There’s silence, I can hear breathing on the other side.
“Who is this?”
“It’s your long lost cousin, Mehlokazulu. Can we meet?”
My heart starts beating harder. Where did he get my number? Demedi! I don’t even know if I hate him properly. Sometimes I think I’m more tired of him than anything else. I’m tired of his shadow hovering over me, I’m tired of the comparison and I’m tired of knowing that if history had bent just slightly differently, he would be sitting where I am.
“Who is it?” My father asks.
I press the speaker button before I can change my mind.
“What do you want, Mehlo?”
“We need to talk.”
“About what? I’m busy. Unlike you, I have a nation to run.”
“Menzi, I’m not going to suck your balls. Are you coming or not?”
Ma gasps softly, I know she’s angered just by hearing his voice. I look at my father, his expression is different, he looks more excited for this call. The man’s eyes light up like someone just handed him a gift.
He nods at me once, he wants me to accept this invite.
“Fine. Where?”
Mehlo names the restaurant on the edge of town before he hangs up. Baba can’t stop smiling, it’s wide and dangerous.
“What are you smiling about?” My mother asks.
“This,” Baba says, pointing toward my phone, “is what we’ve been waiting for. I thought the ancestors turned on us. But no, the Ngwanes are still very much with us. This is our chance to finish what we started twenty years ago.”
Ey! Ey! Not again.
“No, Baba. We are not killing anyone this time.”
The smile drops from his face so fast, you would swear it was never there.
“If you want to stay on this throne, blood has to be spilled. Don’t forget that blood was spilled for you to sit there.”
“I know,” I say, and my voice is lower now because this is the part that keeps me up at night.
“But hasn’t enough been spilled already? Can’t we have peace? I can’t even enjoy being chief because you’re always pushing and stirring. Every time I start thinking maybe we can move forward, something like this happens.”
“I am not stirring,” Baba snaps. “I am protecting the throne. If it wasn’t for me, Menzi, you would not be wearing that crown. You won’t rule long if that boy is still breathing. Now stop crying like a baby and do as I say.”
I look at Ma, I don’t even know what I expect from her. For her to say, “Enough”? For her to remind him that I’m her son before I’m his successor?
She looks away, silence from her is always louder than shouting.
Baba disappears into the bedroom, my heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my throat. He comes back holding a small white pill between his fingers. It looks so ordinary, so harmless.
He presses it into my palm.
“Put this in his drink, it won’t be detectable.”
I stare at it, it feels heavier than it should, like it carries every story I’ve ever heard whispered about my family.
“Baba…” I start, but I don’t even know what I’m going to say. That I don’t want to be this kind of man? That I’m tired of ruling through fear? That sometimes I think Mehlo deserves answers more than he deserves death?
Baba claps my shoulder hard.
“Go, meet him, and end this tonight.”
End this. Like it’s a meeting, bloody paperwork. Like he’s not a human being sitting across from me with his own fears and his own anger.
I stand up because sitting here feels worse, my fingers close around the pill. I tell myself I have no choice. But as I walk toward the door, I can’t stop thinking that every terrible thing in this family probably started with someone saying exactly that.
‘I have no choice.’
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