Faith enters my room with a concerned expression, settling into the chair beside my bed. Sibusiso, her husband, follows suit, his worry evident.
"What caused it this time?" Sibusiso inquires, and I can only offer a helpless shrug.
"I don't know. I don't even remember what happened that led me here," I reply, sensing their shared concern.
Sbu suggests consulting someone to understand the recurring issue, but Faith, firm in her religious beliefs, dismisses the idea.
"My religion doesn't allow me to consult. We're not doing that," she firmly declares, opposing her husband's suggestion.
"Don't I get a say in what happens with my life?" I interject, feeling the tension rise in the room.
"Maybe when you're 18 and no longer under my care, you can worry about your own life, but until then, no, you don't," Faith asserts, silencing me.
Nurse Sally interrupts the heavy atmosphere, assessing my condition. I express frustration at the lack of progress in understanding my condition.
"Every other test we've run has led us to a dead end. I guess you can go home now," Sal announces apologetically, leaving me with Sibusiso.
"Would you like ice cream when we go home?" Sbu asks, attempting to lighten the mood.
"I don't know. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad," I reply, contemplating the simple joy of ice cream.
Sbu shares a moment of understanding with me, acknowledging Faith's concern for my well-being.
"This has been happening for 6 years now, and no doctor seems to find what's wrong with me. Would it be such a bad idea to consult?" I express my frustration, knowing my 18th birthday is just two months away.
"Look at it this way, two months to go, and then you get to make your own decisions," Sbu reassures me.
"I'm heading to varsity in two months. I can't get there and be the weird freak who always has fainting episodes or panic attacks randomly. There has to be something wrong with me, something that cannot be solved using Western medication, Sbu," I argue, seeking understanding.
"Ready to leave?" Sbu asks, shifting the focus back to the present. I agree, and we head home, leaving behind the unresolved mysteries of my health.
...
2 MONTHS LATER
Yesterday marked my 18th birthday, a day I've eagerly anticipated. Faith remains vehemently opposed to my decision, but as long as my choices don't interfere with school, I hold the reins.
Mila, my ever-enthusiastic friend, seeks my opinion on her attire for our visit to a traditional healer. I remind her of the healer's casual expectations, but she playfully contemplates the possibility of meeting her "future baby daddy" at the mall.
"You always look good, Mila. Now, can we go?" I prompt, sensing the unpredictable nature of Mila's fashion choices. I rise from the bed, grab my handbag, and head out of her room, inadvertently colliding with her housemate.
"Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going," I apologize, bending to pick up her scattered books.
"No worries. I'm Sybil. Are you my housemate?" she queries, gathering her belongings.
"I'm Joy, and no, your housemate is still inside. TAKING FOREVER!" I exclaim, ensuring Mila hears my jest. Sybil chuckles.
"Nice to meet you, Joy," she greets, extending her hand. As our hands connect, an unexpected warmth surges within me. It's an inexplicable familiarity, as if I've encountered her before. I withdraw my hand, gazing at Sybil, who reciprocates with a piercing stare.
"You're a witch!"