Oyama: Her Story

CHAPTER 35

I sit up my eyes tearing hearing the story, I didn’t know when she said he was shot in a drive-by she meant in front of him. she’s paused and is looking at me. I’m guessing she’s tryna see if I’m still with her.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask.
“Because a few nights after that, we were alone everyone left us, to go on with their lives, while we were left with the pain of losing a part of us” she says, “One night, I found, my husband with his brother’s in one of their rondevals with a candle dimly lighting the room, smoking what seemed like an unlimited amount of cigarettes, so I waddled into the middle of the room and asked, ‘Do you know who did it?’ they didn’t move, they didn’t move so I knew they knew who did it.” She says, “And I said, ‘Kill them, kill them slowly, kill them all, kill their children, grandchildren, their mother’s, father’s, dogs, leave nothing of theirs on this Earth make them suffer like we did’”
My face betrays my thoughts and I look terrified at this woman now, “They left for a whole month, and on the News every day, we would see how a community was shaken, how bodies were found in rivers, ditches, and burned-out houses. They never said who did it. They didn’t need to. I knew. A fear swept over the land, like a storm cloud refusing to pass.”
She looks me in the eye now, her gaze steady, as if daring me to look away.
“And then they came back. No one said anything. No one needed to. But the way they walked, the way they carried themselves—it was different. They even started teaching the boys how to shoot Peashooters to teach them control over a rifle after promising that they would never”
I swallow hard, the weight of her story pressing on my chest, “And you... you were okay with that? With what they did?”

Her lips curve into a small, sad smile, but there’s no joy in it, “Okay? No, child. Nothing about that was okay. But grief makes you say things, want things, that you might not ever recognize in yourself. I wanted revenge, and they gave it to me. But do you know what I learned?”
I shake my head, though I’m not sure I want the answer, “I learned that revenge is a fire that burns everyone who touches it. It consumed my husband. It consumed his brothers. And it almost consumed me. By the time the flames died, there was nothing left but ashes—and ashes don’t bring back the dead.” She leans back in her chair, exhaling deeply, as though the story itself had drained her of strength. I’m still staring at her, my mind racing to make sense of it all. The woman in front of me seems calm, even fragile, yet there’s something so terrifyingly resolute about her that I can’t look away.
“I told you this, because I need you to understand what grief and hurt can do. What pain can turn people into,” she says softly, “My sons will come to you to ask what do you want to do about the Mzamane’s and I know they kidnapped you, but when they ask, please be a woman, be fragile tell them to forgive, because I don’t think my heart can survive seeing them putting on that much gear and carry so many weapons again” my eyes start leaking and so do here’s but she wipes them quickly. I nod.
She stands up and walks to the door, “Happy Christmas eve by the way” she forces a smile and leaves the room.

Oh shit I forgot it was Christmas tomorrow, yoh and my I’m so tired, the bruising around my ribs is numb now, I wonder why. I roll up my shirt and the bruising is still there, but its easier to breath not like yesterday, I roll out and plant my feet on the floor and try to stand up, my legs don’t feel heavy at all or feel like they are burning. What the heck was in those pills. I walk into the bathroom and its covered in varnished oak, I sit on the toilet and take a breather, I’m still so tired. I stand up and turn on the shower and use the control throttle to control the temperature. It turns green, I start undressing and step in the shower. The water hits my skin, warm and soothing, washing away the grime and tension from the last few days. Steam rises around me, creating a cocoon that muffles the world outside. My ribs ache slightly as the water flows over them, but it’s a distant throb, not the sharp pain I felt yesterday.
Those pills are something else. I close my eyes, letting the water cascade down my face, and try to piece together everything that’s happened. Her words replay in my mind, each one heavier than the last.
“Kill them. Kill them slowly. Kill them all.”
How could someone say that? How could someone mean it? And yet, I understand. The thought of being left alone in that kind of pain, of losing someone you love in such a brutal way, could break anyone. I step out of the shower and into the bathroom, I get into the closet and its only Qhawe’s clothes, looks like I’m raiding him again. I grab a hoodie and one of his joggers didn’t think they would fit but they move over my butt swiftly. I throw the hoodie on and as usual it is baggy so I roll up the sleeves. I push in the slippers and start walking out the room, I’m hungry.