Dear Deceit: A Short Story by Sihle Kheswa

Chapter II: The Tree Falls

It had been 2 days since Makhulu's passing when my cell phone rang beside me on the kitchen table and I glared at the screen, hesitant to answer the call as I didn't recognize the number. I take a deep breath then gather every bit of strength that I have in me to pick up the phone, "Hello Mzwa... My reception is bad. Can you hear me?". I instantly recognised that it was Cebisa's angel-like voice, and besides she was the only one who would call me 'Mzwa' anyway. I try my best to cough the sadness out of my tone. "Cebi, yes I can hear you clearly. How are you?". I had not seen nor spoken to her since she left the village, and under the circumstances, I was pleasantly surprised to receive a phone call from her.

We live in a tight-knit community and needless to say, bad news travels the fastest in this part of the world. "Ndivile ukuba kwenzenke ntoni, uxolo Mzwanele. uMakhulu wakho waye lunge nyani. Uqhuba njani apho? (I heard what happened, I am deeply sorry. Your grandmother was a good person. How have you been holding up there)?". I take a few seconds to gather my thoughts before responding, "Isimo sinzima Cebi, kodwa kuzolunga ngenyimini (The situation is difficult Cebi, but one day everything will be okay)".

Malume Charles walks over behind me and gently taps my shoulder to get my attention, and I am obligated to prematurely end my phone call with Cebisa. He wags a finger at me in a stern manner as if to say, "Stop talking to that girl!" Then he told me that Jongikhaya had arrived and that I should go help him carry his luggage and the groceries he brought with him. I met my big brother outside the house, and we instantly fell into each other's arms without saying a word.

During that lengthy embrace, it was as though we both came to an innate understanding that all we had was ourselves from now on. "First it was our parents, now uMakhulu. Is our family cursed, Bhuti?". I wipe the tears off my face as I ask him this question. He sighs deeply and puts his arm around me to comfort me again. We both proceed to walk inside the house with his bags, and I immediately excuse myself to give Jongikhaya a moment alone with Malume.

While I unpack the luggage bags and groceries from the car to inside the house, I keep expecting to hear Makhulu's voice when I walk past her bedroom door. I am well aware that this makes no sense, but for some reason, I keep expecting it to happen. Instead, it is Jongikhaya's stern and deep voice that calls out my name, summoning me back to the kitchen. I sluggishly walk over to take a seat at the kitchen table and then sit quietly while I watch my only remaining relatives start to plan out my grandmother's funeral arrangements.

In hindsight, this is the first time in my life that I see my uncle in a sober state; meanwhile, I have an overwhelming urge to sip liquor to numb the pain surging throughout my body. This is the first loss in that family that I have experienced, unlike our parents, whom I think are still alive despite rumours that they have long passed on. They are somewhat infamous local celebrities, despised by some, and glorified by others. A story of two hopeless romantics who had a fire in their bellies and a passion for politics. In the early 2000s, my parents, along with scores of other community members, would be frequently arrested and detained by the police for their participation in orchestrating service delivery protests and inciting violence in our community.

According to the then-news reports, there was a group of protesters who set a local ward councillor's house on fire, and unfortunately, the councillor, his beloved wife, and their young daughter lost their lives in the blaze. Several arrests were then made, and my parents were also taken into custody as suspects for arson and murder. I feel for the victims and their families; however, I believe the real tragedy is that at the time of my parent's arrest, I was a few months old; therefore, I have no recollection of what my mother looks like, apart from seeing her in a few photographs.