Crazy In Love (Crushing Hard Series Book 1)

Dear Diary 31/12/2012

01:30 am

Wow. This is painful. Starting the New Year sober with my dad's family, celebrating 2012. Weren’t we supposed to believe the world was ending by now? I’ve been a little worried about that, but it seems like we've been given some extra time.

When I say “we,” I mean my sister Buhle, my brother Mondli, and me. My little sister, Asanda, was already here. She’s my dad and stepmom’s baby. Very posh and “Model C,” she doesn’t talk much to my dad’s family, just smiles shyly. She’s only 8 years old, bless her.

Meanwhile, my dad and his friends were outside braaing, while my stepmom and aunts were in the kitchen making salads and gossiping. We were in the living room watching Generations. Every New Year's Eve, Generations airs for an hour, and that was honestly the highlight of my evening. Once Generations ended, my sister turned on the radio, and the countdown for the Song of 2011 had already started—we were on song number 12. The anticipation was too much for me, so I decided to take a nap and told my sister to wake me up at 11:45 pm.

Now, naps can go one of two ways: you either wake up feeling rejuvenated and refreshed or like death. I woke up feeling like the latter. By then, everyone was in full New Year spirit, dancing and lighting sparklers. The countdown began, but I was feeling very within and without—you know, that saying from The Great Gatsby where you feel like you’re experiencing everything but also standing outside, watching yourself go through it. That’s right, diary—I’m deep.

My dad, of course, had to compete with the neighbors and bought a ton of fireworks. He kept lighting them one after another. BOOM. Some of us were hiding in the rooms. My Aunt Zoleka, who has "abantu abadala" (basically, she can speak to the dead—but only our dead family members), said the spirits don’t like all the noise, so she was hiding from it. Honestly, it was for the best. Nobody liked it when her spirits came out to play because they made her smash everything in sight. It happened a few months ago during a ceremony (my dad’s family loves slaughtering chickens for the ancestors—they probably sacrifice one every month).

“Oh, I won R10 from the lotto power ball, better thank the ancestors!”

“Oh, I had a bad week, the ancestors must be mad that I didn’t thank them when my child passed maths, better slaughter a chicken!”

Anyway, that night, Aunt Zoleka was in her room, and we could hear noises. One of my aunts was brave enough to check on her. Next thing we knew, we heard her shouting, “No, Zoleka! Uwenzani?? (What are you doing??) What are you doing?? It’s MEEEE!!” Then Zoleka’s bedroom door flew open, and my aunt scrambled out, yelling for us to run. We didn’t hesitate. My little sister, Asanda, crawled out the door, Mondli jumped out the window, and Buhle, Thuli (my cousin), and I bolted out the door.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Aunt Zoleka following us. If white people saw this, they’d probably say it was a possession, which, let’s be honest, it was. I was running behind Thuli, and we both hid behind the car. Aunt Zoleka kept coming toward us. Thuli glanced at me, then at Zoleka, then back at me and said, “Can’t you see she’s after you? GET AWAY FROM ME!” as she shoved me aside.

I ended up running down the street. By the time my dad had calmed everything down, I was found in the neighbor’s yard. Thuli later apologized for being a complete savage, but I forgave her. She was in survival mode, and I would have done the same thing.

Anyway, my dad’s fireworks finally ran out around 1 am. By that point, we were all fed up—except for my dad and Mondli, who were still competing with the guy from two houses down. Idiots.

We’ll be heading to the festival soon, so I’m going to catch some Zzz's before then.

Lotsa Love