Tears of Africa

CHAPTER 5

He choked and slapped me. During that moment I was taken back to the moment I was almost raped. At that time he was not any different to him. I feared for my life. I tried to explain to him but he kept on hitting me. He kicked me while I was on the floor. He insulted me. He looked at my eyes and back at his hands. They were covered with blood. He shook and came back to his senses. He calmed down and cried.

I saw a monster in him I never thought I would see. He promised me safety. I never thought he'd be the very person who would violate it.

He tried to touch me, but I moved away. He apologised to me but I cried and stood on my feet. I was scared of him. I was scared to be in front of him. That night a monster came out.

"Khethiwe — Khethiwe I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. Please forgive me. My father told me to do it. He told me to hit you, he told me to do this. I told him no. He said he would assault me again if I didn't. I was scared. I didn't mean to do this. He forced me. Please believe me, he forced me."

He seemed to have lost his mind. What did he mean his father had told him to do it? I didn't understand. He was crying and scared, looking straight at the wall, into an empty space. He was seeing something, something that scared him a lot. Whatever he was seeing came closer to him, it pushed him to the wall. I was so scared. Suddenly he took a chair and started talking to — thin air. He was attacking what he was seeing, but that thing ended up being me. He came closer to me and we locked eyes. He seemed not to be in the room, he was in a — trance.

I could see he wanted to attack me again. I tried to bring him back to me, back to his senses, but he was long gone. The monster returned, and that monster strangled me so hard. I couldn't breathe anymore. It was killing me. That was not my husband. It was not the man I fell in love with

I grabbed a vase and hit him. He slowly fell into unconsciousness. I again saw the man I almost killed, the man who almost raped me. Everything was repeating itself again. I cried as I watched him lie on the ground with our wedding ring on his finger. Where had my husband gone?

He began breathing again, slowly. He moved his legs. He was weak, but coming back to consciousness. I never knew what he was to do when he woke up, would he kill me or ask for forgiveness, hug me and make me feel safe.

I didn't know if the person waking up was the monster or my love. He called my name, he tried to get up but he fell. I ran to our bedroom and packed my suitcase, taking only what I saw necessary and ran off. I left him there — I was only acting from fear. I thought he would kill me. I never wanted to leave him there. I didn't want to abandon him like that, but I was scared. I was so scared.

I went back home, to the village I had vowed to never go back. It was so dark outside. I knocked on my uncle's door and he opened it. He looked at me, then at my suitcase. He didn't want me there. I felt I was not welcome, I always knew that. He looked at my wounded face, his eyes said a lot. He was glad I was hurt — happy. I didn't know what I did to him, why he hated me so much.

"Uncle, I have nowhere else to go," I said. He looked at me, he didn't want to say yes, but he knew he couldn't say no either. My mother and sister accepted me. The first thing I did when I saw them was run to their arms and cry. I always felt comfort in them.

"Oh my sweetheart, what have they done to you? Look at your face. Who did this?" my mother asked, crying like I had never seen her before.

Of course they wanted to know why I was bruised, why I had a suitcase in my hands and why I came back. I couldn't explain to them, at least not at that very moment. I wanted to sleep the pain away — and so I did.

The next morning my uncle demanded an explanation. It was fair I give him one, but he didn't care. He didn't care that I almost died.

"Khethiwe, you can't stay here," said my uncle. "Father this is her home, she has a right to be here. Do you want him to go back to that house? For what, so that he can kill her. She is not going anywhere," my sister said.

"Her being here will bring shame to this family. Mnqobi's family have already paid iLobola. We can't release those cows from our kraal. That will kill the little respect people have for us. Khethiwe must go. She must return to her husband and care for him. My word is final."

And he was right. His word was final; our culture gave him that power. I had to go. I had to respect his wishes. I didn't know where I was to go but I had to. I owe that much to him. He raised me.

"If you have a little bit of decency in you, do what is right for your family. Enough shame has been brought to this house when your mother fell pregnant with you, and worse — when she gave birth to you."

I was used to it by now. He called me whatever he wanted to call me. He despised me. My mother and I took away his life — at least that is what he would tell me, what I grew to believe. My mother couldn't defy him; she wouldn't dare to — my sister too. I understood them. My uncle took care of them; they had no one else but him. It would be selfish of me to expect them to fight his decision when I clearly knew what the results would be.

Women in our village owned nothing, not even their lives. All belonged to the heads of the households. They would end up in the streets if they defied him, or even worse, killed.