Streets of Gold - A Michael Jackson Story

Chapter 9 - This Is Your Home Now

Yonela

Monday July 14th, 1986 - Encino, Los Angeles

"That was wonderful," Janet says as she wipes off her mouth with a serviette. "Thank you, Mother."

"Thanks for the chicken, Ma," Randy smirks as he takes a sip of water. "It was real good."

"You're welcome, everyone," Katherine smiles. "Yonela, dear, did you enjoy it?"

"I loved it," I say with a smile as I put my glass back on the table. "Thank you very much."

"Lunch was lovely, Mother," Michael says politely. "Thank you."

"So will Yonela be staying here?" Marlon asks as he gathers the plates and passes them down to Katherine.

"Yes, Marlon," Katherine starts. "She'll be with us for some time, so I'd like all of us to make sure Yonela feels at home for her stay here."

A few cheers fill the room at the news of my stay with them, which warms my heart.

"So Yonela," Jermaine starts as Katherine and Janet take the plates to the kitchen. "We heard you got quite a voice on you."

All the guys mumble in surprise, making me blush. "Well, I opened for Michael's shows, but I hate to brag."

"Why don't you sing something for us?" Randy asks. "I'm sure we'd all love to hear. You must be really good if you opened for Mike."

"I don't know," I chuckle shyly. "What would I sing for you?

"Anything you want to," Marlon says as Katherine and Janet come back to the table.

"Why don't we go to the living room?" Katherine suggests. "It's much more open in there. It'll be lovely, and maybe we can all have a go after Yonela, hm?"

"I like that idea," Janet smiles excitedly. "Come on, guys." The rest of the room follow her lead as they stand and make their way to the living room. Michael takes my hand once again and squeezes it gently, making the growing nerves inside me disappear.

"Alright, dear," Katherine says as she takes a seat on the giant sofa, leaving room for Janet and Jermaine to sit on either side of her. Randy and Michael each book a single sofa while Marlon sits on one side of the remaining double sofa. "The floor is yours, and you can sing anything you'd like."

"Can I make a suggestion?" Michael says suddenly, making me nervous all over again. Everyone turns to him before he speaks. "Why don't you sing in a different language? Maybe the one you sang in at my shows?"

The room fills with enthusiastic nods and comments, making me blush. I'll be honest, it didn't occur to me to sing in my mother tongue, but I love the idea.

"You want me to sing in isiXhosa?" I ask shyly, still surprised by the positive response Michael's suggestion received.

"Yeah," all the guys say to me in unison.

"Then you can translate afterwards," Janet smiles. That never occurred to me either, but it sounds brilliant.

"Okay, then," I say before each one starts to hush another so the they and the others can listen. I take a deep breath to calm down, closing my eyes and opening them again before I begin singing.

"Kudala ndilaph' ezweni
Inyawo zam' zide zincwel' intsente
Kudala ndibon' izinto
Sekulithuba ndiphanzi kwelanga
Kudala ndilaph' ezweni
Inyawo zam' zide zincwel' intsente
Kudala ndibon' izinto
Amehlo wam' alubonil' usizi