8
FREE AT LAST!
When I look at Sihle’s photo I get tears in my eyes. I have left behind the village where I was raped, but I have also left behind my true love. Part of me didn’t want to move away from home and my family whom I love, but I want to forget the pain. I am away from those who matter most in my life. Telling Sihle that I was going to Cape Town to college was the hardest thing I have ever done.
When I had left home for the city it was like approaching a land that knew nothing of my arrival. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to change my life, but I had my studies to look forward to, and through them I would meet new people. As I got into the bus to Cape Town and waved Sihle goodbye, tears fell from my eyes.
I have been in Cape Town for a month now. Yes, I have made friends with a girl at college, Sandy, and her crew, but I still miss Sihle and my friends in the village. And I still have nightmares of the rape. I wake up crying and thrashing my arms as if I am trying to fight someone off me. But I can’t remember anything. Nothing that will count: no faces, no voices. I wish I could remember. Then I would know if my worst fear was true. The thought I have tried to bury deep down. Because you see, I think that my own brother, Sabelo, was there that night. But I won’t dwell on this in the daylight hours.
As I page through my photo album I stop at one special photo. This is one moment captured that I’ll never forget. It is a photograph of me and Sihle in happier times, sitting under the tree outside my house, on a sunny day.
My aunt, who I live with in Cape Town, leans towards me and rests her hand on my knee.
“It’s a beautiful photo. Why are you sad?” she asks me.
“This picture reminds me of the past.”
She sits next to me on the couch. I can feel the warmth and comfort of her body. “Let me see.”
I pass the album to her.
“Forgetting the ones we love often takes a long time but you’ll get through it,” she tries to comfort me, accompanying her words with a hug. “I know he is so far away. But are you still together?”
How can I explain to her that I couldn’t let Sihle touch me after the rape? How could we go on when it was like that? That’s why I had to leave the village.
“Yes, Auntie, we are,” I tell her. It is not a good idea opening up to her about my love life. After all she’s older, close to Mama’s age, so she won’t understand. But I am wrong.
“There’s nothing to be shy of or ashamed about. I understand,” she says quietly.
She walks into her room and when she comes out she hands me a fifty-rand note. “Quickly go to the shop and get us a loaf of brown bread and packet of sugar.”
I take the money then run to the shop. I am waiting in the queue when I hear a familiar voice behind me. It’s Sandy.
“Wow, you look stunning, chommie! I like your dress.” I guess that she is softening me up for one of her crazy plans – she is full of them, since day one at college. And I am right. “Friday evening we are having a girls’ night out. You have to come.”
“I’ll see,” I hesitate, and then leave her in the shop.
“Auntie, guess what?” I say when I get back home.
“I hate guesses mna,” she laughs.
“Friday is a girls’ night out. I would like to go with my friends. Please?”
“It’s fine with me, but you know you’ll have to ask your uncle,” she says, looking at me closely. “I know you’re sad, Noni, and I don’t like it when you are sad. Maybe this will cheer you up. OK – never mind your uncle. You can go, but don’t keep me up all night waiting for your return.”
“Thanks, Auntie.” I give her a big hug.
Count me in grlfrnd
I send the SMS to Sandy.
In the days before Friday I try not to think about Sihle, or the village. Friday must just come, I think to myself.
“Awusemhle, you look beautiful – like you are going to a wedding,” Auntie says on Friday night when I have dressed up to go out.
“Like aunt, like niece!” I say to her with a smile.
I keep looking at the clock on the wall. It’s after six pm now. Where is Sandy?
Finally, Auntie lets her in through the front door.
“Yhey! Uyatshisa, chommie,” Sandy says, looking me up and down.
“I want you in my doorway by ten o’clock tonight. Niyandiva?” Auntie says sternly to me.
“Crystal clear,” I agree. Sandy nods.
“Wait a bit, Sandy – I can’t leave my phone behind.” Qhwaku! Qhwaku! Click! clack! I run to fetch my phone. I am back soon: “Masambe, chommie, let’s go friend. I got it.”
We leave excited. It feels good to forget about my troubles for a night.
Before we get to the tavern we hear the music pumping. At the Italian House there is such a vibe already.
“Tjo! Akusagcwele maan apha. It’s so full here,” I say on entering.
“Uyashiyeka chommie, ziyawa apha. You are old-fashioned, friend; there’s a vibe here.”
“Chommie yizani ngapha!” we hear our girlfriends calling us.
“Evening, ladies.” As I greet them I feel everyone’s eyes staring at me, including a young guy who is standing at the bar.
“Wow! You are stunning, Nonyaniso,” Nosie and Zia say, making me spin around to show them. I’m wearing a long blue dress, black wedge high heels and a boy’s cut.”
“They are right. You look fabulous,” the guy at the bar says, coming over. I ignore him at first and turn to my friends.
“Thanks, girls,” I tell them.
Life goes on, I tell myself after the first drink. I want to forget my other life in the village and drinking seems a quick way to get there.
After the second drink I start to dance. The young guy who complimented me is handsome, in a different way to Sihle. He is flash – designer clothes, smart watch. He is charming and I am getting drunk. I feel the music and close my eyes. He dances closer to me.
“Can I tell you something? Not here, somewhere quiet?” he whispers into my ear.
“OK.”
He leads me outside. The night is warm. People are drinking out on the street.
“Ever since you came in I’ve been watching you. You have taken my heart, girl.”
“Hayibo, bhutiza. We don’t even know each other. How can you say a thing like that?” He offers me a sip from his drink. A bottle of Red Label whiskey, still in the box, is pressed between his arm and ribcage.
“No thank you,” I say and push the glass back towards him.
But Sandile has a way about him and I find myself giving him my digits before Sandy and I have to leave to get home.
“Une swagger lamfana ubume naye, that boy you were standing next to has swag,” Sandy laughs as we all walk down the street together.
“He looks a bit young though,” says Nosie, also laughing. “Still in high school, I bet …”
“Me, I like younger guys,” Sandy laughs again. “You can tell them what to do. Uyabona, you see? I like that. Better for you, Nonyaniso. You don’t have a boyfriend and you’re sexy.”
I haven’t told them about Sihle. I haven’t told them how much I love him. I haven’t told them how I had to leave the village. How could I have stayed there and lived, every day, with people who know I was raped? I was ashamed. As if all that happened is my fault. These girls don’t know anything about my other life in the village.
Sandy walks with me until we get to the gate of my new home.
In a moment everything changes – from laughter and giggles with my friends to a pain I can’t bear. As I open the door, it hits me. I wasn’t expecting this.
I hear Sihle’s faraway voice in that moment, clear like the night sky. “Nonyaniso, only death will tear us apart, I promise you. I’ll never break your heart.”
“What’s wrong, Noni? Why are you crying?” Auntie worriedly asks.
“I thought that partying would help me forget him. But it has only made me miss him even more.”
The SMS from Sihle comes just past midnight. I can picture him lying on his bed, texting me.
Take care and know
I’ll never give up on us.
I think of my mother working in the vegetable garden. I think of my friends back in the village – how we used to sit and chat about boys together down by the river.
I remember the day of the rape. I went with Sihle to town, where he bought me new kit – a checked mini-skirt, black Sissy Boy top and Reebok sandals.
That evening at home I cooked early and packed the dishes away. In the late afternoon I went to Nosiviwe’s place to check on the party she was having. Then I went to Sihle’s place just to wait for the evening to come. All I could talk about to Sihle was Nosiviwe’s party. Sihle was trying to study for some summer course he was doing. Eventually he just turned to me and said, laughing, “Go back to the party.”
“Not without you.”
“Go, have some fun.”
That’s what he said. If only I had stayed with him and been safe in his arms and hadn’t run up the hill back to Nosiviwe’s party. If only …
~•~
Once upon a time something happened to me. It was the sweetest thing that ever could be. It was the day I met you ,Sihle. But nothing lasts forever and life goes on I say to myself, throwing dice on what I and Sihle had: I gamble with my future.
I hear my ringtone. It is one that the girls chose for me in the village; they knew that Sihle loved it. It reminds me of those afternoons when Sihle and I used to sit under the tall tree just outside my house. We would chat about our future plans, music, and a little less about school. We would just relax until it got late. Tata Ludwe would usually pass by us. “Pawu! Onomokhwe bazimamele – You’re just chilling here,” he would tell Sihle, who was his nephew. Sihle and I would eventually part to go to our different homes.
My ringtone was words from a song by Westlife:
If tomorrow never comes
Would she know how much I love her?
If tomorrow never comes …
This time, when the ringtone sings to me, I answer immediately.
“Hello, Princess. How are you doing?”
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Don’t you recognise me? It’s Sandile. How come Miss SA doesn’t know her roll-on?”
“Roll-on! I am good thanks. Wena, you?” I reply.
“Good. Jonga, look, tonight I am taking you out.”
“Oh really?” I say, realising I am flirting with this boy. I can’t sit with my tears, at home every night.
At six-thirty, Auntie comes home. “You look beautiful. Uyaphi na?” she asks, seeing my outfit.
“On a date.”
“Wow. Do I know him?”
“No! Not yet,” I reply, laughing. Just then a car drives up outside. “That has to be him. I have to go. Bye,” I say, kissing my aunt on the cheek as I run out to meet Sandile.
He takes me to Century City.
“Wow! This place is beautiful, and so big. I’ve never seen such a big mall as this one. You could get lost in here,” I say, amazed.
“This is one of the biggest malls in the country.”
“Can we please window shop before anything else?” I ask, curious to explore the mall.
“Your wish is my command,” he laughs.
As we go up the escalators I tell him, “In the village we used to go to the nearby town, which only had a few stores. We don’t have everything, like here in Cape Town. Our towns in the Eastern Cape are like ghost towns.”
“Tell me about your village,” he says, as we sit down at KFC in the mall.
But I can’t. How can I tell him? I am trying to forget. Luckily, just then, the waitress brings our food. She explains to him what is on the tray and saves me from having to talk.
“Will the lovely couple have anything to drink?” Is that how people see us already, I think. As a couple?
“I’ll have a cream soda.” The waitress shows me a thumbs up and nods.
“I’ll have the same,” Sandile says.
Quickly, I ask Sandile about himself, so that I don’t have to talk about me. He tells me that he is from a wealthy family. He talks on and on. I stop listening at some point and just nod. This doesn’t feel real. My real feelings are buried deep down. However, part of me enjoys Sandile’s attention. He is being a true gentleman. I smile at him. Then I notice the time.
“We have to go now,” I say to him. Then “Tjo! Azisentle ezalokhwe, Wow! Those dresses are beautiful,” as we walk past a particular shop window.
“What size are you?” Sandile asks as we walk out of the mall. I know he will be back to buy the dress.
I direct him back to my aunt’s house. When he stops the car he says, “I got lost now, but will I know the way in years to come?”
“I’m not sure. You tell me,” I laugh, and let him kiss me. But I stop him when he wants more.
“Not yet,” I laugh. “Don’t be in such a hurry. Don’t call me – I’ll call you.” Sandy is right about young guys – he lets me call the shots just as I want to.
“I’ll be waiting.”
When I go inside Auntie calls me into the kitchen, where she is waiting up. “How was your date?” she asks.
I answer a bit shyly, “It was great, Auntie. Thanks for asking.”
Auntie then says, “I am pleased for you, but there are rules. No coming home after nine-thirty at night, no drinking, no wild parties,” she winks. “I remember how I used to party when I was your age,” my aunt teases. “But, it was safer those days,” she adds.
“Thank you for caring.” Auntie and Malume are already helping me with fees for college. I hug her.
Then my aunt’s face changes. I feel nervous. Her expression has become suddenly serious. “Noni, there is something you should know …”
My heart skips a beat.
“The date for your brother’s trial has been set.” My aunt hugs me again.
“It’s OK, Auntie,” I tell her. “I am coping.” But we are feeling the same thing. I know it. We are anxious about my brother, Sabelo, behind bars. We are waiting for his trial. We are waiting.
There is something else I am waiting for. I have skipped my period the last two months …
~•~
That’s how it is. I can’t look into my heart for fear of what I will find there. I live pretending that nothing has happened. I continue to ignore the fact that my period still hasn’t come – by going out with the girls and dating Sandile. Accepting his gift of the dress I saw at Century City. And, most of the time, I can forget that my brother’s rape trial is coming up in a few months. I am trying so hard to forget my other life.
“Friday means freedom, girl,” Sandy laughs. It’s the end of the college term. We are in the student centre watching the boys playing at a pool table. The centre is full. Everyone is busy. I feel so light now that I have made it through a whole term. We are waiting for Nosie who is ordering drinks for us at the bar.
“Freedom – what’s that supposed to mean?” I laugh.
“The girls’ night out.”
“No! I’m not going anywhere tonight, chommie.”
She responds: “Tonight Ntando and Mafikizolo are performing at the Italian.”
“Are you serious, chommie?” I ask, curious.
“Why would I lie to you?” she replies.
At home late that afternoon, as I put on my dress for the night out, I realise I have put on weight. It is a squeeze. I can’t ignore the fact that my period still hasn’t come for much longer. But I have also been eating too much. My auntie has been feeding me up with her plentiful, delicious food since I got here. Perhaps I am just getting fat? I hope with all my heart it is that.
Eish, if I am pregnant it will mean something I can’t even start to think about. Can God please work miracles for me not to be pregnant? I pray, as I zip up the dress. I know that on Monday I just have to go to the clinic and find out. For now I will go out and try not to think about it.
I send Sandile an SMS:
Italian arnd 7 pm
He doesn’t reply. But when we get to the Italian I see his car.
“Baphi ooZia, Nosie and Zen bona chommie, where are they?” I ask Sandy as she goes inside.
“You know them, nje. They are already inside …”
“Go ahead. I’ll follow you shortly,” I tell her.
I’m just outside stnding by ur car.
Cum out plz. Bring me sumthing 2drnk
Sandile comes out with two carry packs and a nip of J&B whiskey.
He kisses me as he puts the drinks on the bonnet of his car. “Here sthandwa sam, my love.”
“Thanks, babe.”
We stand in front of his car and drink. We kiss and Sandile says, “Baby, can I take you home with me tonight?”
“Later. I want to dance right now. Who is the DJ?”
“Only Max.”
When I get inside Sandy is swinging her hips on the dance floor as the house music is playing.
“Come over here,” she shouts.
“You seem drunk already. Where did you drink?” Zia asks.
I am feeling a bit sick now. My legs don’t feel steady.
“Calm down, girls. I got it from my boyfriend.”
“So, it’s official. He’s your boyfriend … your Ben 10,” Sandy says.
“Yes! Why not?”
Nosie asks, “What is it that you drank?”
“A nip of J&B and Strong Bow ciders,” I say.
“No wonder it took you so long,” Sandy says.
I dance on the floor and lose track of time. When I go to get water at the bar I see Sandy talking to Sandile. She is blushing, flirting with him. I look at her differently then. A wave of nausea takes over and I run to the toilets where I vomit. Sandile comes to find me.
“Let’s go,” I tell him.
But Sandy is there, pulling me towards the door. “You are going with me, Nonyaniso, not him,” she says firmly. “I promised your aunt. You are getting drunk.”
“I will see that Noni gets home safely,” says Sandile. It is the first time I have seen another side of Sandy. She glares at us as we leave. She is just as drunk, if not more, than I am.
Sandy is jealous and she watches us angrily as we walk out of the tavern.
We have sex in Sandile’s car. I feel nothing. No, not nothing – I feel loss. I miss Sihle’s touch. When I am back in my bed I wrap my arms around myself like Sihle used to do.
As if he feels me in the dark, an SMS arrives:
I love and miss u. Sweet
dreams and take care.
That night in my dreams I find myself back in the village.
“Go back to the party and have some fun,” Sihle says, stroking my cheek.
“Not without you.”
“Go on. I have to study. I have an exam.”
“OK, but I will be back soon,” I promise.
“Take a bottle from the fridge.”
I grab a bottle of Smirnoff and run out into the dark. I can hear the music from up the hill. I can hear my girlfriends shouting and giggling. I run up to join them. I push on the door. Somebody pulls it open from the inside. It is Sabelo …”
Then I wake up screaming. My aunt soothes me back to sleep.
~•~
I am pregnant. No doubt about that. The clinic sister has the results. The clinic smells of medicine. It is stuffy. I am nauseous. The floor is dirty, and the chairs are filled with women with big tummies. I am stressed, and angry at the sister, who is smiling.
“You don’t seem happy at all,” the sister says, looking at me. If she only knew why, I think she wouldn’t be smiling. How can I be happy?
“There are other options,” she says quietly. “You can put the baby up for adoption. It is too late for an abortion.”
“You talk as if you know how I got into this situation,” I say quickly.
“It doesn’t matter now. All you have to do is to decide. You won’t change the fact that you are pregnant.”
I walk out of the clinic in a daze.
On the way back home I can’t see through my tears. I am angry and sad and confused and embarrassed. What will I tell my aunt and uncle? What will they say when they hear that I am pregnant? They have been understanding, but when they hear this, I am not sure if they will be any more.
A car hoots as it swerves to avoid me. I realise I am walking in the middle of the road. A man shouts. “Sibhanxa, idiot. What is wrong with you, girl? Are you mad?”
Peep! Peep! Peep! The driver of a taxi hoots and shouts, “Hey, you bitch! Are you fuckin’ crazy? You were lucky I didn’t hit you.”
Part of me wishes he had.
A pedestrian asks, “Girl, what’s going on with you?”
“I’m not a girl …” I begin, then give up. You don’t know what I’m going through, I think. They all have no idea.
I should go home but I can’t. So I go to the Italian House, in distress.
As I turn the corner into the street I see a couple walking down it, away from me. She has her head on his shoulder. Their backs are to me. She is laughing. He holds her hand. It’s Sandy and Sandile.
I stand and stare. I think of the other night, how she flirted with him. I think of him SMSing while he was with me, and now I am sure he was SMSing her. I go into the bar to order a drink, using the money my uncle had given me for transport to varsity. I shouldn’t be drinking, but I want to numb these feelings.
“Barman, can I get a J&B?”
“We are not yet open. Can’t you read on the door?”
I plead, “Please tog, just one shot.” I hand over the money. “I’m drinking my own money, not a man’s money here.” Tears are pricking my eyes.
He mumbles, walking away, “Tjo, women are complicated, just like cars.”
“Don’t you dare talk nonsense!” The anger is rising in me.
When I leave the tavern I have found the courage to do what I know I have to do.
I was raped. I will lose Sihle. Now I’m pregnant. I have nothing to live for.
There is nobody at home. I take a pen and paper to write a letter.
Dear Uncle and Auntie
I have found out that I am pregnant – a child of a rape. I will lose the man I love most and the career I am working towards … Even Sandy has betrayed me … There is nothing left to live for. Find it in your hearts to forgive me.
With lots of love,
Nonyaniso
It is the only way out. I go straight to the garage, looking for my uncle’s ladder. I find it. I look for a rope. Underneath my uncle’s Bantam bakkie I find one. I take it straight to my room. It doesn’t take me long to set everything up. I attach the rope to the outside door handle, sling it over the other side. The noose is made. I stand on a stool. My head is in the noose. Then I kick the stool away from under me.
~•~
I am back in the village running up the hill with the bottle of booze. I hear Nosiviwe’s voice as I open the door. Sabelo is trying to push me out of the house. Why?
“Hey, chommie …” Nosiviwe runs up to me, excited. “Chommie chommie yam. You brought my favourite bottle.” We hug and then the lights go out. We run screaming and giggling. Is this a game? To the bedroom where the light is on. Then that light goes out. We are in the pitch dark. It isn’t a game any more …
I open my eyes. I am lying on a bed. But there are noises of cars outside. I am not in the village. My eyes are blurred. I see stars then light then dark again. And then I hear a familiar voice. My aunt’s. I feel wet. I have wet myself. I see the rope lying on the floor, and the stool knocked over. But I am alive.
“The ambulance is coming. Just keep breathing, my sweetie,” she takes my hand. “Thank God I found you in time.”
Later, much later, in the hospital, my uncle stands at the foot of the bed. “Doctor Smith, will she be fine? What about the child?”
“The baby is fine and she will make a quick recovery, I am sure of that. If you hadn’t come …” then he stops.
“When will you discharge her, Doctor?” Auntie asks.
“Tomorrow afternoon. I want to monitor the baby until then …”
I don’t remember much of what happens in the hospital. Nurses. Drips. Sounds of crying patients in pain. I cry on the inside.
When I am back at home, my aunt says. “You scared me mntanam, my child. Never do what you did again. You must tell me if something is wrong. We didn’t even know you were pregnant. ”
“I’m sorry, Auntie.”
Nosie comes to see me. “That bitch Sandy. I am so sorry Noni …” she says, taking my hand. “She will soon find out just what a playa Sandile is. You deserve far better than him.” She takes the picture of Sihle and stares at it. “Tell me about him,” she says.
But I can’t. “Everything is a mess, Nosie. I feel like the world has turned against me. What have I done to be punished like this?”
Uncle says, “We love you, Nonyaniso, and we will support you. Never ever try to kill yourself again, Makhesa.”
Sandy sends an SMS:
Please find it in ur
heart 2forgiv me chommie.”
Maybe one day I will see her again. But not right now.
Auntie tells me, “Forgiveness is the greatest weapon we can use to rebuild the broken bridges.”
Uncle asks, “Is it a boy or girl?”
“Hopefully it’s a girl,” says Auntie.
“It’s a girl. The doctor told me when they did a scan in the hospital. I wanted to know.”
Uncle says, “I was thinking that we should name her Siphukhanyo.”
I am not even sure that I want this child and they are already naming her. How will I tell Sihle that I am pregnant? How? I need him by my side. I need him to stay with me. Surely he will if he really loves me, like he says he does? Sandile calls, but I ignore it. Ten missed calls. He can wait. I switch off my phone.
That evening I hear Auntie and Uncle talking in low voices. Then they come to the sitting room where I am watching TV.
“Noni, that was your mother. The police … well, one of your friends, Nosipho, has remembered something of the night of the rape.” I stare at them. My heart is thudding. “Nosipho remembers what her attacker wore. She remembers what the boys who raped her wore. The girls in the village had been too afraid to come forward.”
“It’s time you called home,” my uncle says softly.
I phone Mama and we both cry.
I phone Sihle. “I have something to tell you.”
“I’m listening,” he says. And I know he really is. He really listens to me. Not like Sandile who was always wanting to talk … to be centre of attention: talk, talk, talk … “This is really hard, Sihle. Please don’t judge me.”
“You can tell me.”
I hesitate. There is only one way to say it. “I am five months pregnant.”
There is silence. The longest minute. He knows what this means.
And then he says, “It will be OK. When I said I love you I meant it. Under life or death situations, I’ll stick by you and I’ll support you.”
“Thanks a lot, Sihle. I love you with all my heart.”
“I’m coming soon,” he tells me.
~•~
Never think you have everything under total control. The situation can change in a minute.
“I’ll be coming to Cape Town soon. I have saved some money for us to buy the clothes for the child.” It is another call from Sihle. Several months have passed.
“Mtshana, niece, I’ve been busy lately. I want us to go out on a dinner,” my uncle tells me when he comes home from work.
“I would love that, malume, uncle. Plus I’ve got good news.” I haven’t been out in the evening since I came back from hospital.
Auntie says, “The idea is superb. Tell us the good news.”
“Come on, mtshana, tell us,” says uncle.
“It’s nothing fancy. My boyfriend, Sihle, has finally graduated and he got a post at Spoornet so early next month he’ll be here. He will be staying in Nyanga with his sister. The most important thing about it all is that he just told me that he has been saving for the child’s clothes! He’s been so supportive.”
“Wow! That’s great news,” Auntie says, and hugs me.
“You are talking about Sihle Siwela?” Uncle wants to make sure.
“Ewe, malume. Yes, Uncle. He’s the nephew of Tata Ludwe.”
Nosie and Zia help me get through the days until Sihle arrives. They’ve also been so supportive. Sandy is nowhere to be found.
One evening I am sitting on the couch chatting on 2go on my Nokia X2 when Auntie comes to sit beside me.
“You know, mntwanam, my child, you can have a paternity test to find out who the father of your child is.”
I’m uncertain about the paternity test. Part of me doesn’t want to know. But if I don’t do it there will always be a shadow of doubt as to whether the child is Sabelo’s. I need to know 100 percent that it isn’t his. And does the child not have a right to know who her father is? It will be difficult for her at imbeleko, when she is introduced to her ancestors, or at intonjane, the initiation of girls.
“Auntie, I am not sure yet if I am really strong enough to face or know the person who raped me. It is possible that … that … even Sabelo could be the one. This is hard, so hard. I need some time to think it through. After the birth I will decide.”
I go back to chatting with Cikizwa, my friend from the village.
“Maciki, how are you?”
“I’m fine, Noni. Yourself?”
“It is getting better by the day.”
“That’s good then. How’s school?”
“It is good, and I’m doing well. Wena?”
“Yes, I’m doing well. I’m at Unitra.”
“Where are the other girlfriends?”
“They went to Nosiviwe’s place. Her parents are out of town.”
The moment she brings up Nosiviwe’s name I freeze. I am terrified.
“Are you still there? Are you there Noni?”
“Yes, I am, chommie. Wenza iBusiness Management eUnitra?”
But she ignores this question. “Do you remember anything … of that night?” she asks. Then we are cut off. Airtime has run out.
But she does not give up. Later that night Cikizwa phones again.
“Noni … it’s important that we try to remember. I remember we were in the dark. They switched the music off. I remember that. I remember one of the boys shouting, ‘Shut up … shut up!’ then hands pulling me down onto the floor and then the heaviness as I was held down. But I can’t remember a face. Why? Noni? Do you remember anything?”
I am silent. Shaking.
“Noni, are you there? Do you remember that?”
“Yes …” I reply softly.
~•~
The streets are so clean and clear. It’s a rainy and windy Saturday morning. Alone, I’m standing in the bus depot near the Police Station, waiting for Sihle. I am wearing warm clothes. There are no people on the road. Only vehicles are visible.
I smile as Sihle steps out of the bus with his sports bag, white plastic, and his phone. My tummy is big. Any day now I will give birth. It keeps a distance between us as we hug each other.
“Hi, Sihle.”
“Hello, beautiful,” he says softly.
We walk home chatting, as it is not that far from the Delft main road.
“This is it?” he asks, as we turn into my aunt and uncle’s yard.
“Yes, it is sthandwa, my love.”
“So where’s your uncle and auntie?” he asks as we go inside.
“They went to do groceries at Spar.”
“Sabelo asked me to give you this. Your mother begged me to go and see him in jail. She believes he is now seeing the truth about himself. He had this for you. How could I refuse?”
For a while I stare at him silently, terrified of the letter. I’m not sure if I want to read it or not. I look at it. It’s a piece of a folded, faded dirty paper. I open it slowly.
My beloved Sister
I so wish to undo the past or make it disappear.
Things happened so quickly. I lost control. I should never have listened to Lwando. It was wrong – the reason I’m in jail today. Every day I’m living pretending that nothing happened. Deep down I’m dying. Please forgive me, Mntasekhaya – my sister! God help me!
With lots of love, your only brother,
Sabelo
I can’t forgive him. Not yet.
That night when I lie in bed I remember everything. It is like a door opens and I can see through the darkness and make out the shapes of figures who raped us. I have come back to the party with another bottle. Sihle was working at his house. He was writing an exam the next Monday. He told me. “Don’t miss out on the fun … go to the party. Enjoy yourself. Tell me all about it tomorrow.”
I open the door of Nosiviwe’s house and there is Sabelo. Something is wrong, I knew it then. But I didn’t know what. I had no idea of what was about to happen. He looks like he has seen a ghost. I smile at him.
“No,” he says and tries to push me back outside. “Don’t come in. Where is Sihle?” He sounds angry.
Then Nosiviwe comes running to the door.
“Chommie, chommie yam, my friend…” she screams happily, then we hug.
The next thing: boom! The door is closed. Phggg. The room goes dark. I and the girls run to Nosiviwe’s parents’ bedroom which has lights on. We are screaming. Giggling. We still think this is a joke the boys are pulling on us. Even when that room’s lights go off, we still think it’s a game. Then Lwando shines his cellphone light at us. “Shut up, shut up, shut up! You are making my head go mad,” he is shouting.
It isn’t a game any more. I start to cry. “What are you doing?” Nosiviwe asks them. She is braver than I am. I look for Sabelo. Surely he can’t be part of this? But there he is – I think I can make out his shadow by the door.
I am confused – not sure of anything. Then a voice says, “This is a knife. I will cut all of you if you keep screaming.” We are squashed against the wall. In the corner.
They start to pull us so that we are lying on the floor.
“Refuse to play with us and all of you will be history by tomorrow morning. Dead, and with your great-grandfathers. Hey, wanna see them quick!?’ They pin us down. They are all over us and we are crying silently. I remember my face wet with tears.
“Aaaaah! Aaaaah! Aaaaah!” One after the other they attack us, moving down the line. How long it took, I don’t know.
Three guys raped me on that evening.
Then I remember. I look over to the doorway. I can make out the red hoodie, the white Nike sneakers of Sabelo. He is standing with his back to the door. Had he been there all along, watching? The others are zipping up their jeans. He is standing so still. Just staring.
I must have fallen asleep because much later I wake up in a pool of water. My bed is wet. I call out and my auntie comes running. My waters have broken. They rush me to the hospital. At Red Cross Hospital, Siphukhanyo is born, with Sihle by my side.
I owe it to my child to try to love her, as Sihle has it in his heart to love her. She needs a mother and a father to love her.
I have not spoken to Sabelo, but I have spoken to Cikizwa and she remembers what happened that night. She remembers Sabelo raping her. She phoned me after the birth and told me what she now remembered. She remembers the hoodie falling forward, half covering his face as it brushed against her neck. She remembers something else. She remembers after he raped her, he stood up and walked to the door. He did not move on to me. I was next in the row. She remembers. And her memory has set me free.
But I wanted to be very sure. A week later we did the paternity test. The results came back. There it was in writing. Sabelo was not the father.
Do I want to know who is? It is too late. Mama told me that the other two boys who raped us that night were later killed by an angry mob. Dead and buried.
Months have passed and Siphukhanyo is growing bigger by the day. Sabelo is out of jail, there was not enough evidence to convict him. I am not ready to see him yet. My daughter calls Sihle Tata. My family is the only family Siphukhanyo will have now. We will take one day at a time, and if she wants to do the rituals we will be there to support her.
I want her to be free of fear and free of shame. I want us to be free together.
Discussion questions
• Noni moved to Cape Town to get away from the memory of her rape. However she continued with her suffering. How did this terrible event continue to affect her life?
• What kind of person is Sihle? How do you know?
About the author
Asavela Peko is a 22-year-old student who lives in Delft, Cape Town. Asavela was born in Ngqamakhwe in the Eastern Cape but was raised in Cape Town by a disabled single mother, Nosipho. A social grant is his family’s only source of income. He believes in team work and sharing. He has written poetry for the FunDza fanz section of the FunDza mobi site.
Asavela is involved in community upliftment and youth development and is the founder and president of a Non-Profit Organization called, Learners’ Movement of South Africa (LEMOSA). His wish is to encourage the youth to value life as it only comes once per individual.
Being a mentee …
It was an honour and privilege to have a mentor like Sonwabiso. I would love to work with him again. He is such a caring, friendly, creative, smart and flexible person. I will continue to use the skills and information he shared with me.
All the mentors and mentees inspired me and made an impact on my life. I used their advice to write a successful story. They inspired me to change the focus in my life and decide to make writing short stories and poetry a career not just a hobby.