MELAMINA THE QUEEN

CHAPTER 61

This is one of the things I never imagined myself going through. Yes, life has dealt me with a couple of bad hands before but I never thought they would take my child away. Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children. It is supposed to be the other way around. Yeah, sure, they do take out funeral covers and life covers for their children but that doesn’t mean they are anticipating or predicting their deaths. It's merely being prepared for death which is inevitable. Bottom line is, they aren’t supposed to be burying their children. They are supposed to grow old, graduate or utilize their talents.

But my princess never had that opportunity. She didn’t even open her eyes and see the world for the first time. She died with her fists folded, meaning she left with whichever talent or gift she was born with. She never got to take her first breath outside the womb. She never got to inhale oxygen. There are so many firsts that she missed. I have been at the morgue before but it was my first time seeing an infant cold and lifeless. I know she would have had so much to offer the world but the angel of death decided not to let her see the light of day. When I touched her, I thought they would be a miracle. That she would open her eyes and recognize me as her mother but she didn’t. She just laid there. As much as I was in denial, that moment made me accept that she is gone for good. My Owenkosi. God knew she wouldn’t live. She was His from the beginning. That’s why I named her Owenkosi. She belongs to God.

Usually kids her age are cremated. But we are Zulu and she is a princess. She must be laid to rest with her ancestors. She is a Zulu royal princess and she should be laid to rest in the royal family graveyard. Because she is a child, her soul shouldn’t wonder for so long in this earth. She should be buried as soon as possible. Three days is the maximum she should stay in a morgue. I should be sitting in a mattress at home right now, in mourning. But I can’t leave my two princesses.

When I laid eyes on my white princess, I just cried. Doctor said she has a heart condition. That’s why her heart used to beat in an irregular way while she was still in my womb. Nkabinde said she is going to live. My Sihlophekazi. That’s the name I gave her when I saw her for the first time. I have always heard of black women giving birth to albino kids but I never imagined it happening to me. The doctor said she didn’t get enough nutrients while in my womb. That’s why she is white and also the lack of nutrition impacted her health. At first they said she had a heart condition but after some observations, they also detected asthma. Her lungs are also under developed. I have never prayed so hard in my life the way I prayed for my Sihlophekazi. I don’t know how I wronged God but I just asked him to give me a chance with my mlungu. I have already lost one child. I need this one to survive.

The relief I felt when I saw the healthier twin. She looked so strong and fierce even with her tiny body. I just knew she would be the protector of her less healthy twin. That’s why I named her Sivikelo. I know it’s a great responsibility to bestow upon her on her second day on earth. But give children meaningful names and they will live up to them. For example, if you name your child Wenzokuhle or Enzokuhle, he or she will grow up to do good unless the ancestors have turned their backs on him and her. After many checks, the doctors deemed Sivikelo healthy. So I currently have her cradled against my chest. She is fast asleep. She looks so innocent and so pure. The thought of her and Sihlophekazi being laid on Owenkosi’s grave to prevent bad omen gives me chills, but that’s tradition for twins.

I know I should be grateful that I get to have two kids unlike some women who were pregnant with one child and lost that one. But Owenkosi was a part of me. It’s like apart of my skin was ripped out. Her death is a wound that will forever bleed, no matter how many surgeries I get. The worst thing was that she looked exactly like me. My own replica. Even in my grief, I had to pry her eyes open and I saw the same colour of my eyes. Weird and unique. I imagined what it would have been like to raise someone who looked exactly like me. I am sure her voice would have been the same as mine. Life is unfair. I am startled by someone knocking. I raise my head and see one of my nurses, Zodwa, standing at the doorway.

“Your Majesty, you have a visitor.” It’s already late in the evening, but this is a royal hospital, so the rules of normal public and private hospitals don’t apply here. Visitors can come at any time. I nod and she walks out. A moment later Gogo Mnguni walks in.
“Ndlovukazi.” She bows a bit. “I won’t ask how you’re feeling. I just want you to know that things will get better. The sun will rise again. It might not seem like it now, but it will happen. Let me pray.” She closes her eyes and starts praying. She prays harder than I have ever heard her. I close my eyes and bow my head. She prays until she starts crying and that triggers Sivikelo to start crying. Gogo Mnguni finally ends her prayer and I take out my boob to breastfeed my angel. She sits on the bed next to me and holds Sivikelo’s little hand.

“There goes the little warrior.” She looks at me. “Losing a child is never easy. It’s not the kind of pain that disappears. You may put it at the back of your mind but it will always hit you when you least expect it from time to time. Give yourself time to grieve. No one knows how you’re feeling because everyone’s pain is different. But don’t get lost in grief. Remember to be grateful that God still left you with two beautiful little girls who are going to need your love, patience and kindness.”

I sniff. I didn’t even realize I was crying. “Thank you, Gogo. And thank you for coming. It means a lot to me.”
She smiles. “Though you are a bit old, you are like a daughter to me. All my initiates are like my children, and when they are either celebrating something or have lost something, I try by all means to be there for them.” She side hugs me and I soak in her warmth. I finish feeding the princess and she takes her. “She is so tiny and so perfect.” She kisses her forehead and burps her. Then she looks at me. “One last thing, don’t forget your husband is going through the same thing you are. It’s worse for him because he is the Zulu king and no one wants to see him break down. Well, they would love to see that so that they can make him trend. Just remember to be there for him as he is there for you.” I nod. “And don’t worry about umlungu. She is going to be fine. Just that she will trouble you and you will become a regular in the ER. But she won’t even need a heart transplant. Well maybe not until she is old enough. But you will all be okay.”

I smile. “Thank you, Gogo. I needed to hear that.” She smiles at me.
“You are not alone, Ndlovukazi. We are here for you. We love you and we care for you. And when it’s time, please let Owenkosi rest in peace. You know we have the power to stop a soul from crossing over. Don’t do that to your angel. Let her rest in peace, okay?”

I wipe the tears that have fallen. I might have accepted that she is gone but I am not ready to let her go. I am not ready to leave my child alone in the cold ground. I am not ready to see her carry soil by her chest. That’s unfair. She is so young to face that all alone. She is going to be cold all alone. She doesn’t deserve this. My daughter doesn’t deserve this and I should be burying her the day after tomorrow. Why did it have to be me, God? Why me?