Oyama: Her Story

CHAPTER 55

This thing of Qhawe waking up at 4am is starting to annoy me, because why are you working on the week of your wedding. I know bills don’t pay, themselves, but I’m sure you can take a few days off.
Its been a few days since the fire, the Rondavel burned all the way to the ground, there’s little to nothing left, maybe a bit of a structure but the whole thatching is all gone, burnt to smithereens. They cleaned it and are planning of rebuilding it again, we still don’t know what could’ve started the fire. I mean what kind of fire, fights against nature itself. Fire is supposed to be calmed by water. The way it was raining it would’ve damped the thatching to the point it would be too wet to catch fire, but nothing.
The other rondavels are still standing, we ended moving all the gifts and blankets from, our rondavel into the main house, so they don’t cause a fire.
That entire night it was scary to be honest, his father walked the entire day like he had the world on his shoulders. The meeting between the heads of the families was just as intense, I walked past his father’s office, because I got lost again and listened in, they were speaking in Sepedi and for the life of me, I am trying to learn the language but its really hard.
Because I can say something in Xhosa to Qhawe and he will reply in Xhosa and I’ll forget that he is Pedi and not Xhosa or Zulu.
I could only catch glimpses of the discussion because, bab’Lethabo said, something about the cleansing ritual they did last year after I was kidnapped and Qhawe’s father mentioned me, when he was talking. The rest I didn’t understand. Even now, I think that fire happened because I’m here and not at my family’s house.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me being here. I mean, OK. Is it their traditional house? Yes, but like his father said, I’m already married into this family.
Me and Qhawe, we are married it shouldn’t be an issue and if it was an issue why is it one now? I mean, when I was brought here, last year should it have been a problem THEN, because we weren’t married. When I was here for 2 days, before our Lobola, shouldn’t it have been a problem then, but why is it a problem when we are literally a week from our literal wedding celebration.
I step out the shower and dress warmly its cold today, there’s a lot of wind. I have on, one of his black bomber jacket, and jersey as well as hoodie. Usually its warm inside, but no one has turned on the AC. I don’t even know where’s the remote is to control the temperature.
I walk in the direction of the smell of that porridge his mother makes. The porridge is sour, but if you pour sugar its nice, but its still sour and she makes it every Monday. I follow the smell and my face is already twisting. I walk closer and into the kitchen I stand my hands in the bomber jackets pockets. “Hello Mama,” I greet.
“Hello” she says.
“Mama, why’s it cold in here?” I ask sitting down, my face underneath the hoodie protecting my nostrils.
“I’d be lying I said I knew, maybe the temperature outside is affecting the thermostat” she says. How cold is it, today? I pull out my phone, wow. Its -2C. dammit.
“They working in this weather?” I ask.
“Of course,” she smiles, “Come help me dish up” I stand up and walk towards her.

I grab all the bowls and set them down on the, JIZAS.
Everyday I’m amazed at how many people live here. I mean, I know they are a huge family that is clear, but damn it still surprises me, when we do simple things like dish up.
Nandi walks into the kitchen holding Nkosana, his tiny face awake with life.
“Morning” she greets.
“Morning” we reply.
I reach my hands out to grab him, dressed in a Lion onesie with a heavy blanket around him, I kiss his fat chubby cheeks.
Such a chonky baby.
I want a fat baby, not a skinny baby, I want him to be so fat he has double chins. I want my arms to get tired from carrying him or her for too long.
Yall should see Qhawe with Nkosana, I mean if you didn’t know you would think that this baby has no actual father and is just a science experiment, they play with him so much its cute.
He starts cry.
And that’s enough, go to your mother.
I hand him off to Nandi, who starts breastfeeding him and he gives me a little stank eye.
Nigga I was just holding you, just now.
Qhawe’s mother puts the huge pot down and starts putting the bowls in trays, I join her and we move to the dining hall. I look outside the window and there’s a howling wind that’s flying through.
Yeah its gonna be a cold few days, ‘Dear Lord please don’t do this to me, don’t make our wedding cold. Amen’ we start hearing boots stomping on the patio and the door opening. Here they come.