SIMPHIWE SHANDU THE HUSBAND
CHAPTER 27
BAGQIBILE
Caring for a sick child can be difficult rather beyond arduous and even upsetting, especially if they are experiencing any pain or discomfort. Not only will a warm bath soothe the sick infant, it will ease aches and pains, and steam from the warm water will also help clear congestion. We tried all of that but nothing worked. Seems like everything is just getting worse by the second and I am afraid of the worst. She is just getting weak and I am failing to even help her. I don’t even know where the pain is.
“Have you ever considered that this babe might need imbeleko?” my sister asks, stepping inside my room. They say parenting is enjoyable but for me it is a completely different story for me. Sizile has been crying nonstop with her temperature on sky rocket. I've tried everything I possibly could on my end but it's pointless. Nothing helps.
“It's not because of that.” I snap shushing her down. She looks at me like she is about to say something but I shoot her a death stare. If she dares to say anything she will be stepping on my already wounded toes. I just don’t have the heart for anything, honestly.
“Can you tell your child to keep it down!” My father banged on the door making me sigh in exhaustion. I haven't slept in days and it hurts. After what went through at Simphiwe’s house, I swore never to set foot ever again or to even come near him. I never perceived that nurturing has so many challenges. How do I bridle all of this?
“You need to tell him one way or another before you lose that child.” by the gods name nothing is going to happen to my child. Nothing is going to happen to this child of mine. I look at her - I am chagrined about her words. “I...”
“Please leave my room and let me be.” I say it in a chivalrous way. She has hurt my feelings no doubt that but she is still my older sister.
“Sizile baby.” here she goes again. That fit again. Sometime heartless thoughts would come to mind wishing that I could squeeze the living shit out of her. I feel like kneeling down and saying what's in my heart. I find myself kneeling down next to my child. I have no one in my corner. I have blocked Simphiwe on every platform. I don't know why it took me so long to see this and for me to see things through. He was never a man enough for me. To know that he has slept with the house help is just another nail in my heart. I loved that man and accepted his material status. As stupid as I am I was ready and willing to be the second wife, meaning to be the second best of it.
“Dear God, I come to you for help and guidance. Give me grace to bear my child's sickness with strength and patience. Bless me, Father, and restore my child Sizile to health...” my phone rings disturbing me from my prayer. I open my eyes and sigh. People have no timing at all. I look at my phone ringing – uncertain whether to answer or not.
“Yes...”
“Bagqibile. You can’t block me from my child’s life.” If I knew that it was this person, I would’nt have bothered picking it up honestly.
“What do you want Simphiwe?” I ask with a hint of exasperation in me. I am not in the mood to nurse his tainted ego.
“I want to have a relationship with my daughter. That is all I am asking for.” he says making my voice to roar in hurl.
“Don't bore me –please. Angithi you chose to...”
“You know what. Forget I said anything. I hope one day you will realize that every child needs their father. Hope you heal that bitter heart of yours.” he says before dropping the line on me. I look at the screen in disbelief.
“He dropped the call on me?” Unbelievable! I will need to give him a piece of my mind and tell him where to get off. Like honestly, how can I let my child leave with a rapist? Now that he walked away from our lives. I will tell Sizile that she was never wanted from the get go. I wrap her up in a blanket and pick her up. I will use my last savings and send her to the doctor.
I find my parents sitting in the dining room having tea. The way my father cherishes my sisters' kids makes me wonder if I am his real daughter or what. I feel anger pumping inside of me.
“Going somewhere?” my mother asks, looking at me. I have Sizile in my arms and I have come to terms with moving out of my father's house, maybe then I will have a healthy relationship with my daughter.
“Yes, to look for a house to rent. This place is toxic for me and my child. There are favorites and I am the least of them.” I say making my father just focus on the television. My mother is hurt by my words but I am just tired bowing down to them. It's time to live for me and do me.
“Ow, I didn’t know that I was also toxic.” she says with her voice filled with so much pang. She wouldn't understand where I come from. She has a loving husband by her side – a man that will move mountains for her and I am just all alone with no one. I stepped out of the house. I will start with the doctor then go look for a one-bedroom house to rent.
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“Looking at her - I see absolutely nothing wrong with this child.” the doctor says. I am just exhausted with these words. They are professional doctors; how come they do not get to see anything at all?
“How is that even possible Doc. The signs are there. She has been having seizures one after another.” I say. My voice is breaking. When will I ever get a break?”
“I will ask Doc Masinga to check up on her. A second hand will be needed on this.” He responds by walking out. Minutes later he comes back with doctor Masinga. Without saying a word, he starts inspecting Sizile who was sleeping peacefully.
“Everything seems fine Miss.” he turns to face me. “You do know if it's something that we are unable to detect this only means one thing.” I know where all of this is heading. He wants to tell me about the cold ancestors. Where were they when their son was shoving himself inside of me. They should have prevented me from being pregnant in the first place.
“This is all bullshit!” I stand up and pick my child up. The reason for my child being sick is because of my father who refuses to accept her. Who refuses to love my child like every other out there. A man who refuses to accept the child of a married man and a child that was birthed out of wed lock. This is all his doing. More reasons for me to truly move out.
I am walking down the street with the sun incandescence on my body. The heat is unbearable. The street is very quiet, no taxis.
“No taxis pass by this area. You will need to go down the road and it's far from here.” a man from behind says startling me. I feel the throb of the heart making me swallow.
“Hy, where do you come from?” I hold my child so closely against my chest. This man looks like has been leaving on the streets for some while now.
“That side.” he points out behind the trees. I look around and then it clicks – it's just this hospital that is here in a deserted area. No movement of vehicles. How did I get here again?
“Can I have bread, I am hungry. I need to take my medication.” he says. I shrink on the inside. What if he runs away with my bag? He would empty my last cents that I have. Looks like I will cut my leave short and go work extras hours. I fish for a purse in my bag.
“Look the other way.” I say. I am afraid no lies. He smiles and turns to look in the direction where he came from. I only have R50 notes in this purse and I have no other option but to give it to him.
“Here.’ he turns around.
“Thank you.” He turns to leave but I stop him.
“Accompany me to the taxi rank. I am scared.” If someone decides to come by and snatch my baby away from my hands I will only have myself to blame and no one else.
“Okay.” I believe he is not much of a talker. “Let me hold your bag for you.” He got to be kidding me. No way in hell I will give a stranger my bag.
“I am good.”
“I am not a street kid you know. It's just life that happened.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“Ahhh, it something I don’t want to talk about.” he says kicking stones with his torn shoes. We don’t share any words, just our footsteps with our treads.
“So, where are you from?” I ask trying to make a conversation out of the awkward moments ever.
“Around.”
“Your name?” he laughs. I guess he will not be telling me his name then. I sigh in relief when I see a taxi rank from a distance. It's very awkward for a hospital to be in a very fiddly place.
“Thank you.” I am grateful for his company. And the fact that he didn’t turn on me says a lot about him.
“We are all human.” He smiles and turns to leave, leaving me confused by his statement. I get into a taxi and take time to collect myself. My phone rings and I just pray it’s not someone from home. A bank notification from Simphiwe. A small smile stretches on my face. God heard my cries and he has answered them. Now I will take time to look for the room that I want. Hope the room will not be more than the R2000 that he gave me. The taxi is full and I just want to be in my room and cuddle with my baby.
“KwaSpa!” I shouted for my stop. My mind keeps going back to that gentle man who even refused to give me his name. Maybe he needed more of what he wanted from me. I let my mind not think too deep into it.
“You are back.” my mum says getting on her feet. My feet are dusty and I am very weary. I just nodded my head and proceeded to go lock myself in my room. My baby needs to rest. She has been in my arms all morning and I am sure that her body must be hurting. I strip naked and throw myself on the bed. I just need to focus on my mental healt because I can see and sense that I am starting to lose myself.
VIOLET
“Mkhuleko.” I say pushing him off me but he is just way too strong. I never imagined our love making to be this traumatic. I love him but this is just way too much. He is taking out all of his frustrations on me., Yes, I admit I was wrong - I made a mistake. I made a vow to myself - that it was only he who would get to take my pride and joy but it took another turn. A turn I never expected. My inner walls are swollen and everything is hurting.
“Yini.” He stops moving on top of me and shares a look that sends chills down my spine. I am afraid of the situation I am in. I have said ‘no’ countless times but I feel like I am being violated in a way.
“Mkhuleko, please. You are hurting me.” I have been wailing ever since he started. Part of me believes he is on drugs; no human can be this unhuman to another human. He has his eyes closed and sweating on top of me. He has been ignoring my cries and enjoying my swollen self for the past hours. I have been counting and I have lost count. I decided to lay there and stop fighting him. I feel my soul being ripped apart, I feel cheap and dirty. He has been pounding me like some prostitute that he has found at the side of the road waiting to be bought. He growls like an animal and shakes still on top of me. He pulls out and I feel the heat of my aching madam. I close my legs pressing my thighs closely together. He sits on top of the bed and covers his face with his hands.
“I'm sorry, I lost control.” he says. Nothing justifies what he did. He violated me and he has the audacity to tell me that he lost control!
“You made me your puppet Mkhuleko. I said no countless times to you and you just kept on going and going on like I did not matter. What you did is called rape!” I scream I remember how I went to the police station to report Simphiwe, someone’s husband, for a crime they didn’t commit. I didn’t know that the pain was this much.
“I said I'm sorry okay! What more do you want me to do.” he snaps back. I just keep quiet. I have run out of strength to even argue with him.
“I took her.” I look at him.
“Took who?” I ask.
“The wife.” I know what he means and who he's referring to.
“She didn't do anything. She was not even there when all of this happened. I can't believe you are this cold hearted. My mother warned me about you so many times and I didn’t listen.” He doesn’t respond. He stands up and gets dressed and drops a few papers on top of the bed.
“I am not one of your booty calls.” I click my tongue feeling the rage inside of me. He can't use me like this for selfish reasons and then dumps me like he bought me.
“I am sorry.” He walks out leaving me still in bed. I just lay there and let the tears flow. Mkhuleko is a monster and I have decided to hate him. My mother once told me that crying is good. Crying may help lift people's spirits and make them feel better. Tears also help relieve pain through endorphin release, so crying after a painful injury, find a safe space to let your feelings out. I let a loud scream and bite the pillows to muffle my cries. I hate Mkhuleko that he has hurt me. I hate that he has used me!