Oyama: Her Story

CHAPTER 10

As we lie in bed my head on his chest. After another 3 rounds of love making. Hehe. I sit on top of him. “I missed you” I say.
He smiles, “I missed you too”
“You sure the rooms are sound proof and he was just playing around earlier?” I ask.
“Yes,” he kisses my cheek.
“So Mogale” I say.
“Yeah what about him” he asks.
“Where you two made in a lab or what, I’m a Doctor and I have never seen Identical twins like you two” I say, “How do your parents tell you guys apart”
“People do get weirded out when they see us walking past them, because they think they seeing double” he smiles, “But its cool having a twin, Mogale is the best”
“Didn’t he leave you stranded, that day we first met, you said he was at Cape Town remember?”
“Oh yeah, I’m still pissed at him, but it is what it is” he shrugs.
“OK, Mkha… uhm Makha…”
He looks at me crazy, “What is this are you having a stroke?”
“No man, I’m tryna call you by that name Motlale…”
“Mogale” he corrects.
“Yes, the name Mogale called you today” I say.
“Oh mxm, Mkhathini” he says.
“Yes” I nod, “What is that like a second name?”
“Yeah, it’s a clan name” he says, “Not a lot of people know it”
“Oh why not, I thought Zulu people call each other by their clan names as a sign of respect” I ask.
“I’m not Zulu, I’m Pedi, my dad just married a Zulu woman, and us Pedi people we don’t just share our clan names with anyone” he says.
“Oh, I didn’t know that” I say, “I just thought we all call each other by our clan names as a sign of respect”
“No, no, I get that, but we Pedi people are secretive when it comes to our ancestors because we are linked to them, by name as well” he says.
“So can I call you Mkhathini?”
“Oh yeah, definitely” he says sounding shocked I would ask, he studies my face, his expression softening as he answers, “Honestly, Oyama, no one's ever asked me that before,” he admits, a bit surprised, “It’s different with you… it feels right.”
I smile, feeling a warmth spread through me at his words. There’s something profound about sharing his clan name, like he’s letting me into a part of him that most people never get to see, “Enkosi ngokundithemba ngayo Mkhathini”(Thank you for trusting me with it, Mkhathini) I say, letting the name roll off my tongue. It feels special, almost sacred, like it binds us in a new way.
He chuckles, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close, “You make it sound like I handed you some royal title.”
“Well, isn’t it?” I tease, running my fingers through his hair, “I mean, your clan name represents where you come from, your history, your family. It’s like you’ve given me a part of that.”
Qhawe laughs, but there’s a hint of shyness to it, like he’s not used to anyone valuing his heritage this much, “You’re a strange one, Oyama. But I think that’s why I love you.”
Hearing those words fills me with a quiet thrill. I smile, leaning in to kiss him, savoring the way he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. Moments like this, in the stillness of the night, make everything else fade away.

I wake up to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains, the warmth of Qhawe's body still wrapped around mine. For a moment, I lie still, savoring the peacefulness of the morning. But as the events of the previous night come flooding back, reality begins to seep in.
Qhawe is still asleep, his face relaxed and serene. I carefully extricate myself from his embrace, not wanting to wake him. My feet touch the cool floor, and I quietly pad to the bathroom. As I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I notice the flush in my cheeks, the slight tangle in my hair—a reflection of the passion we shared last night.
But underneath the surface, there's a nagging sense of unease. I splash cold water on my face, trying to shake off the feeling, but it lingers like a shadow at the edges of my mind.
When I return to the bedroom, Qhawe is awake, propped up on one elbow, watching me with a sleepy smile.
"Morning," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.
"Morning," I reply, forcing a smile as I climb back into bed beside him.
He pulls me close, his lips brushing against my temple, but I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.
"Are you okay?" he asks, sensing my tension. His eyes search mine, concern etching his features.
I hesitate, trying to find the right words, "I don't know," I admit finally, "Last night was...amazing, but..."
"But?" he prompts gently, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.
"But I'm scared," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper, "I'm scared that this…us…it's too good to be true. That something will happen to ruin it."
His expression softens, and he cups my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze, "Oyama, nothing is going to ruin this. I won't let it."
"But what if it's out of our control?" I counter, my voice trembling, "What if something happens that we can't stop?"
He sighs, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, "We can't predict the future, and we can't control everything. But what we can do is hold on to what we have right now, and fight for it with everything we've got."
His words are reassuring, but the fear still lingers in the back of my mind, "I just don't want to lose you again" I whisper, the vulnerability in my voice catching me off guard.
"You won't," he promises, his voice firm, "I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. We'll face whatever comes our way together."