Jonathan and Other Weird Stories

Thabisa (four)

'You are lucky,' Mandla says to me one night. We are sitting outside on a bench, eating oranges from a nylon, and watching cars and motorcycles drive by. 'Thabisa fell sick before you even arrived here. You cannot understand the pain I feel, without her here. It is like there is a hole in my heart. A hole that expands and aches me every day that passes by without my Thabisa. You are lucky, because you don't feel this pain.'

I do not like the way Mandla eats his oranges. He squeezes them hard, like he is strangling a man, and he sucks with his full black lips, making irritating noises. Mandla is a nice man, but sometimes I wonder how he managed to find himself a wife as beautiful as Thabisa. I often feel the urge to ask him, but I do not know how to bring it up without insulting or upsetting him. Thabisa has been bedridden for too long now, although I do not even know what sickness she suffers from. I have to ask her nurse the next time I take food to her.

Mandla is right. I do not feel his pain, but I do feel something much worse in my heart. Something I cannot even begin to explain. But I will not tell Mandla of my dilemma; I do not expect him to understand. I direct my gaze to Onyebuchi's shop—or rather, what remains of it. Last night, after Onyebuchi closed for the day, some men came over with petrol and set his shop ablaze. Apparently, Nigerians are involved in selling hard drugs in the neighbourhood. Burning his shop is their way of trying to send the Nigerians away. Mandla has assured me that as long as I stick with him, I will be safe.

We stay outside some more until the nylon of oranges is empty, and the neighbour's generators begins to shriek and drive us inside. Mandla lights a lantern in the living room and sinks into an armchair, while I head to my shabby make-do room and try to get some sleep.

Two nights later, Mandla asks me to take some food to Thabisa, before he leaves the house. As usual, I obey. There are two paths to the bus park. The first path is shorter. This path takes me through a large market, which inevitably leads me to the park. This is the path I usually take. The second path leads to Madam Kholwa's territory. I know I should not take this path, it only causes me misery, but if I do not face my troubles soon how else will I put my mind to rest? I have to see Jabu, and for the first time I know why I am going there. I always knew there is something off about Jabu. The way he picks on me... it is different from the way his friends pick on me. His is usually harsher. More extreme. Like he takes it personal, because it is personal—to him. He hates me, not because I am queer, but because I am not ashamed of who I am. Like he is.

Madam Kholwa's store is still open. I am standing at a distance with Thabisa's food in my hand and I see a white bulb in front of the store still on, with insects dancing around it in frenzy. The night is dark and filled with songs of chirping crickets and the bass of toads. Jabu is sitting on a bench in front of the shop, with two of his friends. They are talking loudly and laughing amongst themselves. I tread closer, and closer, and closer, until I am standing right behind the bench. They do not see me yet. I look into the shop. Madam Kholwa is glaring right at me. She has that look in her eyes again—the one that completely unmans me. I swallow and look away. Just like that, all my fears return. My heart increases its pace. What exactly am I doing here? The boys are still chatting away. They are talking about football.

'Jabu,' I call, and they cease their talk abruptly.

They swivel their heads to look at me. Jabu's friends are smiling, like they are happy to see me—excited, the same way I might smile when my favourite show starts on television. Jabu is not smiling. His mouth is slightly agape, and his eyes are glazed.

'What are you doing here again, this boy?' Madam Kholwa says, somewhat dramatically. She gets up and comes outside. 'What is it?' She stands akimbo. Her voice has no trace of kindness. I am speechless now, and I feel very stupid. Jabu's face changes. He is smiling now, but in his eyes, I can see that his smile is fake.