In The Dawn - Cedric & Sarah

Chapter 7

PRESENT/PAST DAY
Days passed and I still had not heard from Sarah. I tried ringing her phone many times, at least three times a day - everyday but she wouldn’t pick up. It was either left to voicemail or not going through. It crossed my mind that she didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. Maybe regrets had filled her mind. For days I was a loner with nothing to do. My life became a boring one. I did one thing more and more for days. If I was not gossiping with my aunts, I was resting my lazy body in bed. I began missing the life of a white slave. The life that gave me purpose. The life that connected me to the world. I began missing all my students, especially my fantastic four (Isabel, Ben, Emily and Eugene) whom I had the best of my days with. I learnt a lot from them as a teacher and also as an adult. They taught me things I never knew at first. I learnt more about love and infatuation. They taught me the difference between the two, and now that I live, I will never mistaken them again. And from Bab’Khumalo, a man who taught me life. He taught me things about life that no man has ever taught me. He shared with me his wisdom and I’d be a lying if I say I was never inspired. He gave me love of a father. He gave me advices. He shaped my future in a most positive way. My life there (JOJOS) was better nice than here. I may have faced discrimination but I was never bored. Here, life is slow and hard. I have been long gone to this place and I forgot how tough life is. It is a life never meant for me. While on my bed having series of thoughts alone, my uncle came to fetch me and he asked me to walk him to dance market. I guess this was his polite way of saying ‘your life is boring. Get up and do something. Don’t make your uselessness visible.’ He waited for me by the door to wear my shoes and we left the house.
     Dance market was a place my mother used to take me as a child. Every December I knew my mother would take me there to watch people dance and experience the best time of my life. When I was young there was this group called Buyela Brothers of which was the best dancer group at a time. By now they probably have grown up to be old men. It has been very long since I set my foot there. When we got inside it was packed like it always had, with over hundred people gathered for the event. People moved their bodies. Their feet stepped and danced. It was very nice as a child to see people dance but now the experience had changed. I didn’t get the fun I expected. Nobody gave me a performance of a lifetime like Buyela Brothers. Had they been there, I was going to be entertained fully.

   THE CLASSIC MUSIC I heard when I was a child played on the other room. My ears travelled to the other room to listen to my mom’s favourite song; the song that brought me all memories of her. From how she smiled to the sound of her laugh. With my mind absent from the dance, my body found its way to the chair that was next to me and I sat down. A white ceramic chair by look, but just mere woods beneath. As I sat trying to avoid the boredom within me, I decided to take a walk around the area to remind myself of the old times. I walked around for about ten miles and the walk led me back to my home. After experiencing boredom at the market, I climbed my bed and lay there. I pictured how my life would be had I not been fired from JOJOS and I believe it was going to be a beautiful life. Whilst busy thinking, my telephone rang from the kitchen and I walked to answer it.
     “Hello.”
     “Hello Cedric.” the voice of a woman said on the phone.
     “Who is this?” I asked.
     “It’s Elizabeth from Ogbrich hospital. I am sad to inform you of the passing of Muzi Caswell Khumalo. He left us this afternoon.” She said and my body froze with the phone in my hand. My voice chocked and I could not say a word. Noticing that I was shocked, she continued, “Miranda took his body for a family burial.” She added.
     “Miranda? Her daughter?” I asked shocked.
     “Yes. They were together during his last moments. He asked us to hand over everything to her should anything happen to him.”
When I heard these news, my feet froze. It was impossible for me to believe that the man I saw as a father was no more. But instead of seeing his death as a loss, I saw of it as a life lived for purpose. The dream of seeing his adopted daughter was fulfilled. I recollected my breath to answer Elizabeth who was still on the line. 
     “I’m happy they found each other. Thank you for letting me know sister.” I said and she hanged up. I was relieved to know Bab’Khumalo will rest in peace now that he has seen his longing daughter. I guess It was a happily ever after for him. At least he had a fair death. After what he went through in life, God decided to take him. May his soul rest in peace. I hope God receives him with warm hands. He was a great man. He was a man God saved for me. He was a man I wished he had fathered me. He was a man I believed to be strong. He was a man who gave me hope in hopeless situations. He gave me his ears on my first day at work. He gave me his company to share when I was lonely. He offered me his jacket when I was cold. He offered me his food when I was hungry. He offered me friendship when I had no company. A man has lived and a man is no more. Death has taken a man I call my hero. Death has taken my friend. May God listen to my request just this once time and open the gates of heaven to Muzi Khumalo. He deserves a bed in heaven.