Chapter Three : October 28th.

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A race of cars drove into the premises of NG Church in Ellaton. Klerksdorp Technical High School learners united like a forest, splitting into two groups and made two horizontal lines to welcome the family into the church. It was not until I saw the white casket clothed in a white blanket and the RCL members leading the way with white candles; that my mind snapped back to reality. This is it. Vuyiswa is gone. When her white casket passed right in front of me, I shed a tear. I thought to myself, will the sun ever rise again?

The funeral service began with the reading of an obituary, then a short summary of the suicidal letter she had written. Something about her mind imprisoning her. Those words sounded familiar to me, coming out of the horse's mouth. My eyes wandered around. Half of the people that were there, weren't supposed to even set foot. I guess their regret and guilt was too much for their big ego to handle. Including the principal of the school. He did not even have the remorse to stand before the school and right his wrongs. He had to send his two staff members to represent him, like it made it any better how ill the school system treated Vuyiswa. The world was unkind to her. Jealous of her identity. Resentment for the gift she carried. You know, no one is ready to speak the truth. Or stand up for Vuyiswa. Therefore, I will be her voice. I refuse to be silenced! Vuyiswa was chased out of a Christian Movement committee when the teacher in charge found out she had an ancestoral calling. "We don't want your demons here," they allegedly told my innocent friend. Is God's place of worship not a home to His lost sheep? Do we not run to Him for repentance? Church is like a hospital for sinners. So explain to me, how does a Christian chase away one of their own? I can go all day, exposing the dirty little secrets behind the walls of THS. But is everyone - and I mean, every single person - ready to know the truth?

'Hey, Vee. Are you okay?' I caught up with her on the corridor after our English class. This was after the new RCL members for 2024 were announced.

She looked tired. Her voice even sounded lower than usual, 'it is okay, Phindi. I knew they might not choose me. Kids like me are considered weird.'

'You are not weird to me,' I gently laid my hand on her soft, oval jawline. I added, 'you are smart and beautiful and your spiritual gift makes you special--'

'People do not think so. They all think I am a witch.'

'Please do not speak like that.'

'But it is the truth! They all hate me. But in all due time, it will not matter anymore.'

I slowly removed my hand off her cheek. I stuttered, 'w-what do you mean?'

'I am out of time.'

'Out of time for what? Vee, what are you talking about?'

'There is nothing left for me here.'

'What are you-- Vuyiswa?'

'I have overstayed my time in this world.'

'No. No.'

'Listen to me. Phindi...' she tried to hold my hand.

'I said no!' But I did not let her.

'It is over. I have had enough. I am done.'

'We can fix this, alright? We can still fix this, like we've been doing this entire time--'

'Phindi, stop. It is fine.'

'You know you I am always here to listen to you. I can help you whichever way I can.'

'Phindi, you did not break me. You cannot fix things you did not break.'

Vuyiswa deserved a seat at the table. To be amongst the people of one of the most respected committe at school. She stood a great chance at being Head Girl. I remember she even showed me a speech she had already written, had that day came. That was before she was robbed of something she deserved. This conversation was sometime in September, a month before Vuyiswa took her own life. I had been scared ever since. I began to pray harder than I did before. I asked the Lord to save her life from depression and suicide. All the time I spent, on my knees and begging the Higher Power to intervene in matters I had no control of, was a waste. He took her away from me. He rather an angel to serve Him, than to save me. So unfair, see why I turned my back on religion! Furthermore, I became to angry at everyone.
I added salt to my wound. As we drove to the graveside to lay Vuyiswa at her final resting place, I downloaded TikTok. She was a star. A great dancer; there was no dance challenge she did not hop into. I know this because I watched her practice for The Revue. Plenty of lunchtime we spent at Ms. Faul's class as she showed me her new dance moves. Sometimes she wanted me to join her, but you know, I have two left feet. So I'd sit back and watch her move her hips to the left and right, her feet step on every tile without missing a beat. She smiled. She laughed. She was the happiest, dancing. I can still see that memory at the back of my mind. Good times, I tell you. As I typed her name on the search bar, it popped up following the 'rest in peace'. I stalked her account. Little did I know I would discover something scary. Her reposts. She gave people signs. Asked for help. No one noticed. I wish I downloaded TikTok sooner. In that way I could have seen those reposts, and maybe I would have been able to save her sooner.

"I am so sorry for your loss. My deepest condolences."

"You are strong. I know you will get through this."

"It all gets better with time. Everything is going to be okay."

"She is at a better place. She would not want you to cry over her."

Do people even think before they speak? You cannot compare me going through a breakup to burying a close friend. It is worse than my psychologist rescheduling my appointment for another day! Nothing is ever going to be okay. In fact, each day that goes by marks another day I spend without Vuyiswa. Can you imagine the pain I had to endure at just 17-years-old and all you could possibly say is, "she is at a better place"? So please, spare me the condolences. IT IS NOT GOING TO MAKE ME FEEL ANY BETTER!

'What was she like?' Bonolo asked in the car, earlier when we were on the way to the church for the funeral service.

'She was,' I smiled, 'everything you could ever imagine.'

'A good heart stopped beating. I would have loved to get to know her.'

'She would have loved you. I just know it.'

Bonolo has a heart of gold. I always say, her heart is too pure for this wicked world. I hope she keeps it. I hope she shapes the world into a better place by shining like the light she is, in every room she walks into. I see through her. She is a healer through music. Her talent is actually a calling. When she sings a note, the ear listens. I know she would have made Vuyiswa loosen up from the weight on her shoulders, just by singing Rise Up by Andra Day. Bonolo is a writer too. Her love language is words of affirmation. Vuyiswa needed to hear how worthy she was to still be in this world. There is not a minute that goes by my mind without me thinking she should be here. She just... left too soon, you know?

'Let it out,' Kamo comforted me in her arms outside the church. I struggled to hold my tears back during the service.

I cried in my best friend's arms. I still cry this day. I am hurting. I am suffering. Each day I wake up with so much I want to tell Vuyiswa. Never once in my life did I ever attend a funeral. Even worse; witness a coffin go down to 6 feet under. Vuyiswa was the first person I said my final goodbyes to. I have not been the same since. She took a piece of me too when she left.
Kamo held my hand throughout the funeral service, and she let me rest my head on her shoulder in the car. I went home with her. We hardly ever spend enough time together since we decided to attend different schools after middle school.

'Can I sleepover?'

'Yes!' she instantly yelled. She interrupted me with a big smile on her face.

I will tell you later how Kamo continues to save my life after tragedy strikes, even after 6 years of our great friendship. Then you will understand why she is so dear to me. Sometimes when I think of death, I am reminded of her heart condition. Lord, please save her for me, I cannot lose her too.

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