NURSE THEMBENI
CHAPTER 15
MENZI
I stumble through the front door, my chest heaving so hard it hurts to breathe. My eyes sting with tears I didn’t even realise were falling until I wiped them on the drive home. The moment I step inside, I fall to my knees. My parents are both in the lounge, I knew they would wait up to hear how it went.
Ma sees me first, she jumps up from the couch, hands flying to her mouth.
“Menzi! What happened? You’re shaking!”
She runs over and puts her arms around me before I can even speak, then helps me up, and guides me to the couch. I collapse onto it. Baba is on his feet in front of me, staring at me like I’m a ghost.
“You drank it, Menzi? You drank the pill yourself. My son… my only son! You stupid boy, you took it instead of him.”
Tears spill down his cheeks, actual tears. He drops to his knees in front of me, hands grabbing my shoulders, and shaking me.
“No, no, no! Who will take the throne? Who will carry the crown if you die? It all ends with you, everything we fought for, everything I built, it dies with you!”
His voice breaks into a sob, loud and dramatic, as if the world is ending right here in our lounge. He’s rocking back and forth, clutching my shirt, crying like a man who just lost his kingdom, not a father who lost his son.
I stare at him through the blur in my eyes. I can’t believe this man.
“I didn’t drink it, Baba. I killed a woman tonight.”
Ma’s hand stops rubbing my back. Baba’s sobs cut off in the blink of an eye. I swallow hard, forcing the rest out before I choke on it.
“I paid the waitress at the restaurant to put the pill in Mehlo’s drink. She did it and I watched him drank it. He looked fine when he left, but… I k’illed her too. I ran her over twice to make sure there are no witnesses. Her body’s on the side of the road somewhere between here and Dukuza. I left her there and drove away.”
The silence is worse than screaming. Ma’s hand trembles on my back, Baba just stares at me, tears still wet on his cheeks, but the panic is gone now, it’s replaced by something colder.
He stands up, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
“Is Mehlo dead?”
“I don’t know, when he walked out of the restaurant, he looked okay. Tired, maybe, but alive.”
Baba curses so loud his wife flinches.
“Useless! You are useless, Menzi! I gave you one job, one simple job, and you couldn’t even make sure he was dead? How do you know the waitress even put the pill in? How do you know he swallowed it? You paid her and trusted her? Now I have to send someone to check, to finish it properly. When will you ever start doing things right?”
I can’t believe this, my own father. The man who just cried like his world was ending because I might die, and now he’s angry because I didn’t murder cleanly enough.
“You don’t even care that I k’illed two people tonight. Two, Ngwane. A woman who trusted me because I’m the chief, and your nephew. And you’re not asking if I’m okay, you’re not even bothered how I feel. All you care about is the damn throne.”
Baba’s eyes turn hard.
“The throne is all that matters, Menzi. It’s the only thing that has ever mattered. But don’t twist my words, I care about you too. That’s why you’re the one ruling, not the orphan. I killed for this throne so you could sit on it. I protected it so you could wear the crown. Don’t make me regret that.”
“Ngwane, calm down.” Ma says.
Her hand is still on my back, rubbing slow circles. She’s trying to hold me together.
“Menzi, my boy. It’s going to be okay, we’ll fix this. Your father is just… he’s scared, we’re all scared. But you’re home now, you’re safe.”
My stomach lurches, everything inside me, guilt, disgust, horror, comes rushing up at once. I jerk to my feet, my hand clamped over my mouth, and run to the nearest bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before I’m heaving, and throwing up everything, the beer I didn’t finish, the bile from the drive home, the shame that’s been sitting in my gut since I handed that pill over and two dead bodies.
I retch until there’s nothing left, until my throat burns and my eyes water again. When it stops, I slump against the wall, pressing my forehead on the cool tile, and breathing hard.
I’m disgusted with Baba for caring more about a crown than his son’s soul. With Ma for rubbing my back as if this is just a bad day instead of m’urder. And with myself for driving away from that body like it was nothing, for thinking, even for a second, that the throne was worth this.
I killed two people tonight, and my father’s biggest worry is that I didn’t do it properly.
I press my palms to my eyes, trying to stop the tears, but they come anyway. What have I become?
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THEMBENI
I finally fall asleep after scrolling on my phone for what feels like forever. Sleep comes fast and sudden, without warning.
I’m standing in a big open kraal at night. Smoke is everywhere, I don’t know where it’s coming from. The ground under my bare feet is hot, almost burning, and it feels like it’s moving.
People are all around me, they are all dressed in animal skins and beads. It feels like I fell right into the days of Shaka Zulu. These people are holding spears, chanting low praises that make my head vibrate.
“Bayede Ngwane kaNgwadi… Bayede…”
Their faces are hidden in smoke, but their voices sound human.
In the middle of the kraal is Mehlokazulu. He’s dressed like a king, leopard skin across his shoulders, a royal headdress on his head with blue crane feathers in his hair, beads around his neck. But he looks wrong, his face is pale, there’s sweat dripping down his temples. He’s clutching his chest like something is tearing him open from the inside. His eyes find me and he calls my name.
“Thembeni! KaMajola!” he sounds pained and desperate.
I try to run to him, but my feet won’t move fast enough. The ground stretches, pulling me back. Mehlo drops to his knees, coughing hard. Dark blood spills from his mouth and hits the dirt. The people circle him now, but have their fingers pointing straight at me.
“You are the chosen one,” their voices boom inside my head. “You are the queen, protect the true blood.”
The kraal explodes in flames, orange fire shoots up everywhere, licking Mehlo’s legs, his arms, his face. He screams, not just pain, but deep grief, like he’s losing everything we never even had. I scream too, finally breaking free, and run toward him, but the fire swallows him whole. He burns fast, turning to ash that blows away before my eyes.
“Mehlo!” I scream.
The people turn to me.
“The queen must choose, or the bloodline ends.”
I wake up gasping, sitting straight up in bed. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. My nightwear is soaked with sweat, I’m shaking. The rondavel is dark, it’s not morning yet, my blanket is on the floor.
What the hell was that?
I rub my face, trying to breathe normal, but the dream won’t leave my head. It felt too real, too intense, like it wasn’t just a random nightmare but something trying to tell me something. I have never been this terrified, I just watched him die right in front of me.
I grab my phone, it’s 2:17 a.m. I open his contact, I don’t know why my thumb is hovering over the call button insteadof pressing it. I want to phone him, hear his voice, make sure he’s breathing. But what would I say? “Hey, I dreamed you burned to death… are you okay?” He’d think I’m losing my mind. Or worse, he’d know exactly what it means and drag me deeper into whatever secret he’s hiding.
I drop the phone and hug my knees to my chest. My mind is racing. Was that the ancestors? Maybe warning me? Showing me he’s in danger? Or was it just stress? Because, why would he be in danger? I left him at his house, with his parents. He even called me when I got home and he sounded just fine.
Eish! But that dream didn’t feel like a normal dream. It felt like a message, and Mehlo is tied to it. What if I ignore it and he dies?
I lie back down but my eyes stay wide open. Sleep isn’t coming again tonight. I’m still terrified to death. I don’t know what it means yet, but one thing is clear. Something is coming for Mehlo, and somehow, I’m supposed to stop it.
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I didn’t sleep after that dream, I tried calling Mehlo twice. Both times it rang out, straight to voicemail. I’m experiencing a lot of firsts with Mehlo, lately. This is the first time his phone is off when I call. Either it’s really off, or he’s avoiding me, or… or something worse happened. That dream keeps replaying in my head. I keep telling myself it was just stress, I mean it does that to a person, gives you nightmares you did not subscribe for. But my gut won’t buy it, my gut is screaming that something is wrong, very wrong.
Why, out of the blue would I dream of a man who’s never graced my dreams before? He was on a throne, dressed like a king. The dots are connecting, faster than my brain can catch up.
“Thembeni!” That shout is followed by three quick knocks on my door.
I haven’t even stretched and I have visitors. Perks of living in a yard full of people.
“Thembeni, vuka mntase. Vuka, it’s morning.”
Yes, I know it’s morning. I have a window for heaven’s sake. But does Lindani have to bother me at 5am? My big brother never knocks like he’s asking permission; he knocks like he’s already inside. I know this is his father’s house, but it’s my father’s house too. I have rights.
“We-KaMajola.”
Ey!
“I’m coming bhuti.”
Hold your damn horses. This one must marry that girlfriend of his and I hope she takes him out of this place.
I drag myself off the bed, open the door, and there he is, arms crossed, face serious, already dressed like he’s going to a funeral.
“Who died?” I ask.
No seriously, that’s his funeral outfit.
“Get ready,” he says.
We don’t greet in the morning, you standing and talking is more proof that you’re alive.
I rub my eyes, yawning the annoyance out of me.
“Ready for what?” I’m not even ready for this day.
“The Hlongwanes are here, they came to pay lobola.”
My brain falls flat on its face.
“What?”
“They’re in the yard already, it’s happening today.”
“Bhuti, is this a prank? If it is, then you are the funniest person I know.” I fake a laugh. “You can stop now.”
This is not funny, really.
“Not everyone plays games like you, Thembeni.”
“Bhut’ Lindani, Menzi told me himself that he’s not forcing anything. He said he wants to get to know me first, he said I get to choose if I want to marry him or not.”
Lindani’s frown deepens.
“I don’t know what conversations you two had, but sisi, you have always known that you are to marry the chief. It was never up for discussion and you never protested. What has changed now?”
I did protest, silently. I was never okay with marrying chief Hlongwane, and things are different now, I know things I didn’t know then.
“Bhuti you know me, I have never agreed to marrying him. I just went with what you said, you said I was chosen to be his wife. What was I supposed to do?”
He rubs his face, looking all kinds of worried.
“Well, it’s too late to cancel, sis wami. They’re here and they’re ready to pay. Choice or no choice, it would be disrespectful to let the uncles travel all this way for just tea and biscuits.”
I step back into my rondavel, and throw myself on the bed. It’s hard to process all this.
“But why the ambush? How come we were not told they were coming.” I ask.
He exhales. “Eish, Thembeni. I’m not not going to stand here and argue with you. Time does not wait for anyone.”
“I have a boyfriend,” I have no choice but to lie my way out of this.
His eyes narrow, he looks confused for a good second.
“A serious one, bhuti. The dark skinned guy that brought me home the other night wasn’t my driver, we’re dating. I don’t want to marry the chief.”
Mkhululi appears from behind Lindani, mxm, this one was waiting for his cue. He leans on the doorframe with that smug look he gets when he thinks he’s in charge of my life.
“What makes you think you have a choice, Themi? You were chosen for the chief long before you could even talk. Now you’re telling me you’re picking some random man we don’t even know?”
I wasn’t even talking to him. Lindani is softer than this one, although very strict like him.
“He is not some random guy, bhuti. He could be more important than we realize.”
“What are you talking about?” Mkhululi angrily asks, pushing his way into my room.
“I had a dream last night. Mehlokazulu is the real king, bhuti. The true king of KwaZulu. The ancestors showed me.”
Lindani’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Don’t start with that nonsense, Thembeni. You’re saying this because you want to be with him. That’s all.”
“I’m not lying! His dad knows Baba’s name. He said they are old friends, ask Baba, he will tell you.”
“You’ve already met his family.” Mkhululi though.
This one is a selective listener, I can’t with him.
“He came to the clinic for a checkup, I met him by accident.” I will never not lie to this tyrant brother.
“And he knew you from where?”
God, save me from my enemies.
“Bhuti, I will explain later. Please believe me, ask Baba. I think he knows the royal history.”
Lindani snorts. “If he’s the true king, why isn’t he sitting on the throne? Why is Menzi the one wearing the crown? We can bring the royal seer, the same man who predicted your marriage to the chief years ago. He’ll tell you the truth straight.”
“There’s no need for that,” Mkhululi cuts in, with that annoying firm voice of his. “We all know the truth. Menzi is the chief, that’s it.”
I shake my head in frustration.
“What you think you know isn’t the truth. Menzi must be Mehlokazulu’s relative. I don’t know how he ended up on the throne, but it’s not right. The ancestors showed me, Mehlokazulu was the one dressed like a king, and his people called me the chosen one, the queen. I’m not making this up.”
Lindani steps inside now, closing the door behind him, I know he’s about to shut down the conversation.
“Enough, Thembeni, just stop it. Get ready, the negotiations are starting soon. Wash your face, put on something decent, and come out. This isn’t a debate.”
I stare at him, at both of them. My brothers, my blood, looking at me like I’m a child throwing a tantrum instead of a woman who just had ancestors scream in her dreams.
I close the door after they leave, lean against it, and let out a long breath. My phone is still on the bed, for sure there are no missed calls from Mehlo. I pick it up again and dial his number one more time. It goes straight to voicemail.
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