Holding On

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Honestly, I am so tired of these never ending problems. If it's not this, it's that and they all require an extensive amount of money. I'm not sure whether the problems that I face are also problems that other adults face too or whether these are just problems that my kind face; my kind being the first-born children of a family, individuals raised in single parent households or individuals that have responsibilities that they take care of back home. Please do not get me wrong, I am not complaining or anything like that, and neither am I saying I do not want to assist my mother but when will I ever catch a break? Kucacile uba umntu uyofela enkomeni (it's clear that a person will always struggle). After being stuck in my mind for a second, I remember that my mother is still on the line and decide to enquire further about this Anga/R20 000 saga from her

Me: R20 000 mama?

Mom: Ewe Nono, and they need it before the proceed with Anga's procedure

Me: Yho (wow) mama this is a lot of money. Where are we going to get it?

Mom: Ei andiyazi nam sis kodwa (I also don't know but) uAnga needs this procedure done, and soon or else he will suffer and face further complications.

My phone starts beeping and I move it away from my ear to see why it's doing so. I look at it and see that it's beeping because the battery is flat, it is currently on 10%. That just reminds me that akho mbane kulendlu (there is no electricity in this apartment); yet another problem.

Me: Mama ibattery yale phone iflat and izocima (the battery of this phone is low, and it will switch off) very soon. I will take a taxi to Port Elizabeth tomorrow so that we can see uba senza njani ngalemeko kaAnga. (How we will resolve Anga's issue)

Mom: Oh, Nono ingabe usincedile sisi. Uyayazi kaloku ukuba ulithemba lam sana lwam (Oh nono, you have helped us a great deal. You know that you are my only hope baby)

Me: Okay ke mama, I will call you in the morning tomorrow before I leave

Mom: Okay ke sisi. Ungalibali ukusela amayeza akho later. (Don't forget to take your medication)

Me: Asoze mama. (I won't). Okay ke sharp sisi

Just when I drop the call my phone's battery dies... sigh. My phone is just another pandemic nje on its own nje yazi. (You know) I still have an old J5 Samsung with a screen protector that is no longer clear but grey and a cracked screen. The camera stopped working years ago and this is because I am a clumsy, messy individual who constantly drops things, like my phone. I wander my eyes around my room and my eyes land on the window and I can see from the sun's position that it's already late in the afternoon. I must go to the garage to purchase electricity before it gets even darker outside. I contemplate purchasing my electricity when I get back from home, but I end up reconsidering the option when I realise that with my phone's battery dead and with Anga in hospital, I need to always be available in case the doctors or my mother need me. In addition to that, I take into consideration what I would be able to eat for supper as I can't afford to order in. After reaching my decision to go to the garage, I drag my body out of my bed and change from my onesie back into the tracksuit that I was wearing when I went to the doctor earlier. I peruse through my purse to find my wallet and take out R100, this should afford me with enough electricity to last me till payday, next week Tuesday.

I walk out of my apartment and head towards the garage. In no time, I am standing in front of the cashier ready to make my purchase. I inform the cashier that I am here to purchase R100 worth of electricity and after which I hand him the paper with my meter box number. While he is busy punching my meter number on the till, I notice that he keeps throwing glances at me which at first I assume are meant for somebody else but when he continues with this act, I decide to confront him about his shady shenanigans

Me: Sorry bhuti (brother), ndingakunceda? (May I help you?)

Him: Hayi sisi, akho nxaki (no sister, there is no problem)

Me: Then why do you keep looking at me like that?

Him: Hai sisi akhonto imbi (no my sister, there is nothing wrong) it's just that Ia m a very observant person and I can see that you are not okay

Me: And how can you tell that? I say with an attitude, folding my arms in the process

Him: Your hair is a mess; your eyes and nose are red, and you look like you have just woken up from sleep with all those lines on your face and I just wanted to make sure that you are okay.

I stare at this wondering if he just called me ugly or? I contemplate with myself on whether I should go off at him, releasing all my frustrations on him or if I should inform him that I am not that well? Like, ungenanphi ezintweni ze-appearance yam mm? (How is my physical appearance of concern to him) Ndiyagula (I am sick), my brother is in hospital, my mom needs R20 000 and here he is highlighting casting judgement on my appearance, as though he is perfect. Who died and made him God mm? I do appreciate his concern but as abantu sinengxaki zethu (people we have our own problems) and we don't need people, especially strangers, prying into our lives.

Me: Hai but ndiright (I am okay brother) I just woke up from a nap hence ndinje (that's why I am like this)

Him: Oh, haike sisi, ndiyavuya ukuva ukuba uright (I am glad to hear that you are okay). A lot of women get abused right in front of our eyes and we often ignore the signs by choosing to 'mind our business' whereas a small intervention or inquiry could save someone's life. I am one of those people who are very observant, and I cannot turn a blind eye to such possible atrocities that is why I asked you uba uright na. (Are you okay)

I am left dumbstruck... I mean how thoughtful is he? It never occurred to me that that could have been his reasoning behind his question. Thank God I opted to be polite to him and not jump off the rails.

Me: We need more people like you in society bhut'wam (my brother). Thank you

Him: Ndiyabulela sis. Nanku umbane wakho (Thank you my sister. Here is your electricity voucher)

I take the slip and thank him once more and start away, but just as I am about to exit something tells me that I need to know the name of this mature and lovely man. I turn my head back to look at him and yell back "I'm Nomzamo by the way" and he responds "I am Vuyolwethu" ... mm Vuyolwethu neh? (right) He brought joy to my day. Walking out the sun is beginning to set, and the chilling winter breeze is making its presence felt. I pull the strings on the hood of my sweater even tighter and shove my hands inside my pockets and continue with my journey. I get home, walk to the electricity box, punch in the voucher and 3 seconds later, the power comes back on... makukhanye! (Let there be light) I decide that I will pack for my trip tonight so that I don't have too much to do in the morning.

In the morning I wake up already dreading the day ahead of me. I must go to the bank to make a withdrawal from my savings account to contribute towards Anga's surgery then I have to make the daunting trip to Port Elizabeth. Getting ready is a breeze and I thank myself for the decision of preparing for my journey last night. I gather my phone, purse, apartment keys and drag my suitcase heading out the door. I still feel a bit under the weather, but the medication seems to already be doing its job as I feel much better than what I did yesterday. The taxi I took to town drops me opposite the bank and I walk in with the hopes of concluding my business within the next 20 minutes. At the back of my mind, I kind of hope that I bump into the 'chest' just so that I can stare at his face and temporarily forget about my problems. Obviously, that does not happen, which I am bummed about but then I console myself by saying 'would I even have been able to stare at that tall glass of chocolate?'... I doubt it. Anyway, I exit the bank in 30 minutes, which is not too bad and head towards the taxi rank to catch a taxi to Port Elizabeth and luckily for me, the next taxi leaves in the next 15 minutes. Throughout the journey I am deflated and, in my thoughts, thinking about how much my efforts for the last 6 months have just gone to waste. It always seems like I take two steps forward and tens steps back. When will the struggle ever end? All my efforts have always been for the betterment of my siblings' lives. I try to pave a path for them that will not require them to work backwards but a one that will propel them even further, with no baggage or unnecessary loads. But I guess one has to bear the cross right, and that person has to be me... sigh