MY SPIRITUAL JOURNEY

THE JOURNEY OF ZAMA DLALA

CHAPTER FIVE

It's the nervousness and the anxious feeling you get when someone tells you that they have a question or that they want to talk to you about something. And at that very moment, time freezes, and you feel like you have the wind knocked out of you. I still can't believe it. She left me. For me personally, it is utterly devastating and heart-breaking. We were very close, and her death was a shock.
All of this is suffocating. I've been snapping a lot lately. I don't mean it, but it's the grief.
My mind travels back to when I last saw her in hospital. She called my name. She was happy to see me. I shared so much with her. The smile was there through the pain.
There is an apology I want to offer on the tip of both my tongues.
But it doesn't slip out. I don’t mean to, but I am drifting away. Slowly. Painfully.
Aware of every step I take further from each other even when I pretend otherwise.
It is for the best and I know it. But it's hard. I find myself smiling. We didn't listen to the same music anymore. She was more of a church person than I am. Completely two different people, but I wouldn't have traded our relationship for anything else. She would laugh at the jokes. I know she would roll her eyes. But she laughed either way.
I know we don’t fit anymore in person. She's where she belongs. I don’t have private jokes anymore. I don't have that friend. I will annoy each chance I get. Who would break my eardrums with their substandard? But that doesn’t make it any less painful. And now.
Now, our friendship has turned into slow, melancholic leaves falling in autumn. Beautiful yet crumbling.
I'm going to hold on to the memories. They were worth it.
"It's okay." Luisa entwine her hand with mines. I am wounded. That's how you could put it.
"Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust..."
I feel wholly lost. all I want to do is to crawl into a hole and die. To hide under the blankets in my bed. I can't eat. I don't want to eat. I'm not hungry. But this is wrong in so many levels, that I know. They took my sister away from me! Stomaching something is impossible. And everyone says I should be strong for her. I watch the coffin go down. My emotions are blocked. Feeling confused in all sorts of ways. We stand there at the cemetery, watching the coffin going down. This is it. I am burying my best friend. God has taken yet another soul that is close to me dearly. First, my grandfather is now my friend. I take a deep breath. Seeing her mother wanting to down with the coffin. She wasn't ready to bury her child. A mother will never be ready to bury what they love. She is being pulled back by three men. That's how powerful she is. She's is losing herself. My heart is too heavy to be here. I let go of Luisa's hand. I look at her coffin, going down one more time and turning to leave. I will come back some other time. Once I’m strong enough. I want to share all the gossip.
I see Mthoko on the far end. He looks broken. Did he know my friend?
I decided to walk up to him. His eyes are so red, like he has been crying.
"Mthoko." I stand next to him. His eyes shift from where my friends body is being laid at and looks at me.
"What are you doing here?" I ask. He opens his mouth to responds but a woman standing beside him answers for him.
"To attend a funeral of our neighbor."
Her attitude stinks. I just leave them standing there. I want to get home and sleep. Maybe I will wake up only to find out that all of this is a dream.
Arriving home, I throw myself on the couch. I just want to take a quick nap and forget for a second.

"Mngani." That's Sizakele's voice, but I can't see her. I scan around, but there is no sign of her. But I can hear her calling my name over and over again.
"Sizakele!" I shout. My voice echo’s across the woods.
"This side." I follow her voice. I see a group of people gathered. I run to see what is happening. I squeeze myself in the crowd until I get the sight of what's happening. I see Sizakele's body laying on the road helplessly.
"What happened?". I ask.
"She was knocked by a car, and now she is dead." One of them say. I feel myself struggling to breathe.
"Sizakele." I choke on my tears. She is not moving. Her arm is broken, so her leg. I feel shivers on my body. The urge for me to scream comes up.
"Zama. Wake up!" I feel strong hand vigorously shaking me. I open my eyes, and my father is looking at me with so much worry in his eyes.
"What's wrong?" He asks. My head feels heavy.
"Had a terrible dream." I tell him how the dream was and everything in it. It felt so real. It's so terrifying. He keeps quiet for the second and takes a deep breath.
"That was quite reality. The way you screamed." He says. Yes, it was reality. I don't know why I would have such a terrible dream right after burying her. I should have beautiful dreams filled with lovely memories, not an unpleasant image.
"What time will you go to the hospital?" I ask, getting off the couch.
"I'm actually coming from the hospital. I didn't want to wake you up. You looked peaceful."
I smile. The father's love.
"You won't believe what I saw." He sits down with a grin on his face.
"Iza nazo Baba." I am already on my feet. My ears are itching.
"I think you should sit down for this."
I slowly sink back on the couch impatiently. My father cannot do me like this. Really.
"Well, I got to the hospital and as usual it was busy..."
"Baba. Just get straight to the point."
If allow him to fetch this documentary far. Trust me, it would take an hour to hear the ending.
"Impatient." He chucks. "Your mother can now talk."
He got to be joking. He can't joke like that.
"It's not funny." I'm so annoyed. How childish can my father be?
"I'm serious. She looked normal. She can talk like a normal person. But she doesn't have much strength cause she can't walk."
My eyebrows snap. I'm looking at him like his grown horns.
"She will be discharged tomorrow." He asked. The whistle comes in when my father is happy. And right now, he is whistling towards his bedroom. My heart thuds a strike. I don't know whether it's fear or happiness. This is what I wanted. Right? Of course it is. I need to cook a feast. I want my aroma to call MaNzama from her home.
Christmas colors will be devoured today. Looks like Christmas came early.
I'm singing my lungs out. I'm sure Beyoncé is proud of me wherever she is.
"I'm sure your throat must be hurting now. I heard your voice in my house and here I was thinking you are in danger."
I'm offended. I look at the woman standing outside the door, looking at me like I've lost marbles.
"I can sing." I say, defending myself. I lower the heat on the stove. My yellow rice is coming out just perfectly fine.
Salads, I will do last. I need to marinade meat in the meantime.
"I can tell."
She lets herself in and sits down. MaNzama doesn't have kids of her own. It's just her and her husband. She gets bored most of her time. She just enjoys spending time with us.
"What are you cooking?" She has that frown on her face. Can't she see I'm marinating chicken?
"That's not how you season chicken. Do you want your parents to die of salt? Kids of today!" She clicks her tongue and grabs the salt from my hands. She is rinsing the meat.
"I will teach you how to cook."
I feel my body boil. I wanted this occasion to be perfect, and now this nosy woman is ruining it for me.