In The Dawn - Cedric & Sarah

Chapter 10

I was still with Bab’Khumalo in his ward and the nurse came to his service. She gave him a glass of water and pills. She watched him drink his pills and after she was satisfied, she left us alone.
     Bab’Khumalo was a good man and I noticed again that he still was discrete. Now that we had nothing left to speak about, I asked him about his family and he answered.
     “I am a lost soul.” He said and continued. “I have lost everything that matters to me. I lost my wife and children. I had three beautiful children, two daughters and a son but they are all gone now. My youngest daughter was adopted by a family I don’t know when I had mental problems. I lost my family through a fire. My wife and youngest daughter were burnt in the house. Till this day, I still wish I had not gone to work, perhaps my wife and child would still be alive. It still haunt me to this day that I wasn’t there to protect them. What kind of a man I am? A man who fails to protect his family?” Bab’Khumalo sobbed and he continued. “One day I was coming back from work after a hard labour. A part of me was happy because I had just got paid. It was month end. I walked with confidence and excitement knowing that my family was going to eat nice food that night. You know in black families we eat proper food between month end and few days after. When I entered by my street, I saw light from a far distance. I kept on walking and as I walked closer, I noticed it was fire. From my distance, I couldn’t exactly see where the fire was coming from, so I ran towards the direction of the fire so I could offer my hands in pouring water. When I got closer, just few houses away, I realized that the fire was coming from my house. I threw my bag down and ran as fast as I could to reach my house. People were there setting the fire off with buckets full of water. I pushed people away to go inside but I was blocked by three men from passing through. I tried to fight but the men were too strong for me. I was then dragged back with my feet kicking and my mouth screaming. My eyes went to my house and it was too impossible to save it. The fire was big and hot as hell. My eyes again, shed tears. There I was seeing the house I had worked hard for burning to the ground. I spent years building a house for my family and now I was watching it burning. The men let go of me and they went back to the crowd without saying a word to me, but just a spirit of calmness. Realizing that there was nothing I could do to save my house, that’s when a thought of my wife came to me.  I went to the crowd hoping to see my wife and one lady from my neighbourhood saw me and she pulled me away from the crowd forcefully. Without waiting for her to speak, I forcefully snatched my hand from her hand and I went back to the crowd. I started shouting my wife’s name hoping she would hear my voice and come to me, but nothing. I continuously shouted her name and still nothing. As I was busy emptying my voice with my wife’s name, the council of my village pulled me aside to tell me that my wife and daughter were inside the burning house.
What! I said to myself.
     Without saying a word, I ran inside the house, pushing people over. They tried to stop me but I managed to ditch their snatching hands. I kicked the door open and I went in the bedroom and I was met with my wife and daughter tied up in ropes on a chair burned into ashes. I remember myself screaming and crying so loud enough to wake the devil in his hell. A second later, the roof of my house collapsed hitting me on the head and I fell down with my eyes focusing on my wife and daughter whose skeletons had turned black. My eyes dimmed and I could not see anything anymore, but just smoke and fire. That is the last thing I remember about that day.” Bab’Khumalo paused to have a glass of water and continued.
     “I then woke up in hospital and my body was covered in bandages. I asked the nurses what had happened to me and they said I had been in comma for six months and three days. That was the longest time I had been in hospital in my life. I lost my memory. I literally lost my mind. I didn’t know who I was, or what my name was. I spent another two months in hospital, slowly gaining my conscious. By the time I was doing better, they removed me from the comma to the other side of the room. The memories of my family started kicking in. The picture of my wife and daughter kept playing in my mind, the very same mind that was not healthy enough to hold such sensitive memories. Do you know the pain of losing a person you love? A person closer to you? If you know the pain, double it to have mine because I had lost two people in one day. It took me another five weeks to finally begin a process to recovery. In forty weeks’ time, I was discharged from hospital.
     When I went outside like a renowned thief, I had nowhere to go. My house was burnt and my family seem to have not cared about me. None of them bothered to come check up on me while in hospital. They seemed to have forgotten I existed. So, instead of going to them, I asked a friend of mine to help me hide my head for few nights in his house and he agreed. With nothing else to do other than to feel sorry for myself, all the memories of my wife and daughter burning flashed back. For each day that I was alone I was drowning myself in tears.  I began resorting to alcohol to numb the pain. The world had turned its back against me. I had no home. I had no job. I had nothing. I had no idea where Miranda, my second born child was. I began a search for her and I was told she was taken for adoption. I was told she was adopted by a good family, and to this day I have never seen her. I have never seen my princess in ages.” He said in a teary voice.
     “I am really sorry Bab’Khumalo. I am sorry for asking. I shouldn’t have.” I apologized for asking him about his family.
     “It’s okay. I have learnt to let go.” He said.
     “Who tied your wife and kids if you don’t mind me asking?” I asked.
     “I don’t know who tied them but I heard rumours that we were witches and that we use muthi.”
     “But why would they think you are witches? Did you do something maybe?” I asked trying to understand everything from both ends. Nobody accuses you of witchcraft for no reason.
     “People will always have something to say in everything that goes in your life.”
     “Yeah, that is true.” I stopped and continued, “You said you had three children. Two girls and a boy. And you told me your youngest daughter died in a fire and another one was adopted, I’m curious, where is your son?” I asked.
     “That’s a long story. I will tell you some other time, it’s a tragic story.” He took a long breath and continued, “Enough about me, where was we in Pinkie Pinkie?” he asked blocking my question.
     “Where Phiwe pushed the knife in his chest.” I reminded him.
     “Right, let’s continue there. When his parents found him lying on the floor in a pool of blood, they drove him to hospital. His father was driving as fast as he could to save his son’s life. When they reached the hospital...”
     “…I think you told me that part. Now I remember. You stopped right where something was happening to Phiwe in a hospital bed.” I said blocking him from finishing his sentence.
     “Let me tell you again.” He paused and continued, “The nurses rescued them and they took Phiwe into the ward. His blood became the new paint of the hospital feet. It had showered all the white tiles. Three doctors filled his ward. They were busy with him while his parents waited outside. Hospital machines were around making a beeping sound. Drips, ventilators, and tubes even in his head, chest, stomach, nose, even in his arms, all around his body.
Darkness was beneath his eyes; thick blackness all around him. He wasn’t even sure whether his eyes were opened or closed. He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t move or even feel his body. After minutes of doctors working on him, in slow motion, he opened his eyes and stood up from the bed. He looked at the doctors who surrounded him and that’s when he noticed his body lying on a hospital bed unconscious. His body was not responding to the machines anymore. The machines beeped a long irritating sound. The doctors punched the shocking machine on his chest but the machine kept the beep still in a frequency that indicated the stop of a heartbeat. When they realized Phiwe stopped responding to machines, they left the room and went outside to where his parents were and one doctor broke the news to the; that Phiwe was no more and his mother wept. She pushed the doctors and made her way to her dead son lying on a hospital bed. His father joined her and when he saw his son lying there, he wept. If Phiwe was alive, he’d tell you it was his first time seeing his father crying. Phiwe’s soul moved aside. It was a sad moment for Phiwe that he was losing the only people he truly loved. His father Muzi collapsed to the floor and the doctors came to rescue him. His mother was crying out loud. She couldn’t believe she just lost his first born son. Phiwe was still in their presence in spirit when all this happened. He went over to hug his mom. I bet she didn’t even feel his touch. He was a new boy again. He was in a world of peace. The pain and guilt he felt in this world was no more. He felt the greater happiness of his then life without pain. Phiwe looked up and said Thank you. He looked back to his parents who were crying out loud, with her mother shaking his body. Whilst waiting, he heard a voice behind him. He heard a familiar voice calling his name ‘Phiwe, Phiwe!’ He looked to where the voice was coming from and his eyes were met by his beloved Karabo. He smiled and went over to her. Karabo was standing beside the window that was half closed by a blue curtain. If he didn’t know Karabo from her life, Phiwe would have assumed she was an angel. She had dressed in a white long dress that never revealed any part of her skin. They both shared a hug of about ten seconds and Karabo pushed out her words; ‘it is done. All is over’. Phiwe then went back to his mother who was now held by security guards, blocking her from touching his dead body. He kissed her on the forehead and left the hospital ward with Karabo.” He said paused.
     “Where was his father Muzi during that time?” I asked.
     “He was taken to another room after he collapsed. Both Phiwe and Karabo left the room and they headed to their former school where they had last seen each other alive. They entered in the ladies toilet where Karabo had taken her last breath.
They both sat down and Karabo explained all the events happened on the day of her passing. When I heard that you and I are siblings, I lost it. I went crazy. I loved you. The love that I had for you was too much for me to lose. With the treatment I received from my stepmother, I knew something was wrong. Over the years something told me she wasn’t my real mother but I ignored all my instincts.
     After I had a huge fight with her, I ran to my dad to demand the truth, if she’s my mother or not, because no mother would treat her daughter like she treated me. She locked me in my room for days and only opened when my dad was coming back from work. She starved me. She abused me. She did all things a horrible mother could do to a daughter that is not hers. My dad wouldn’t tell me the truth at first, but I forced him to and finally he told me. He told me everything from A-to-Z, from how he met our mother to how their relationship ended. I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t.
Fast forward to the day I supposedly died. I saw you leaving class and I remember you telling your friends that you were going to the toilet. I had told Kelebogile everything and I asked her to tell you all should anything happen to me. The previous night I had swallowed Cyanide poisoning (Hydrocyanic acid) and it was said to last for 16 hours. When you left the class, I followed you and surprisingly, I saw you entering the ladies toilet instead. I waited for couple of minutes before I could enter, hoping that you’d realize that you made a mistake and you would come out but you didn’t. I concluded that you were up to something no good so I entered the room and I went to pee so I don’t make things obvious. I saw you hiding and I pretended not to see you.
When I was done peeing, I felt the change in my temperature. I was feeling hot. I lay down and hoped you will come help me, but you didn’t. I tried to scream but I couldn’t voice out. After a few seconds my soul freed itself from my body, Karabo said to Phiwe. Phiwe walked around the toilet trying to find the right words to say to Karabo. He explained to her how he tried to save her and how it was late. He tried to save her but she had already lost her life before he got to her.
     They both had some nice time and bond to share together. They laughed. They reminisced. They even shared their deepest secrets to one another. It was that moment that Karabo suggested that they fuse. What is fuse? She explained to him what ‘Fuse’ is since she saw it in his face that he was confused. ‘By fuse, you and I will become one’ she said.
   ‘What do you mean we’ll become one?’ Phiwe asked.
   ‘We must fuse and become one soul. We love each other right. And above all, we are siblings after all. More reason to.’ She sold Phiwe her idea. ‘Where did you hear this fuse thing from and what if it doesn’t work?’ Phiwe asked chocking to his words. ‘It is something I was taught this side. Many have not yet attempted to do it so I thought it would be cool if we do it. It is the way to reconnect with our loved ones. They say it works perfect in siblings – a boy and a girl. Let’s try it, it will work. Trust me.’ Said Karabo.
Phiwe questioned her idea further until he was convinced enough to agree to her fuse idea. Karabo made Phiwe close his eyes. She grabbed his neck and squeezed it harder. She held on hard and Phiwe felt like he was going to lose his life for the second time. Phiwe tried to scream but no sound came out. He tried removing Karabo’s hands from his neck but he had lost strength already. She continued to strangle him until Phiwe could not feel his soul anymore. After a while, Karabo let go of him and he collapsed on the floor. When Phiwe was empty and helpless, she entered in Phiwe’s soul with her clan names following. I guess they were a completion to their formation.
     For hours, Phiwe lay on the floor unconscious with Karabo inside of him.
When Phiwe woke up, he felt something had changed inside him. He stood up and noticed everything about him was different. It felt so great to him. He looked at his hands and they had changed. He looked at his fingers and they were different. Something told him to look at his private part and he noticed something had changed too. It was the combination of him and Karabo in one spirit. His private part became a combination of a penis and a vagina. His stricture changed. His skin tone changed. His face changed a bit. When this process was done, His spirit wandered across the South Africa. Karabo lives in him and him in her. He labelled his new being as Phikisow (A person with both a male and female private part). Now, that’s how Pinkie Pinkie came to live.” Bab’Khumalo said and I took a long breath to digest everything.
     “Wow, I don’t know what to say.”
     “Yeah, that’s how Phiwe turned to Pinkie Pinkie?” he said.
     “Right now I’m convinced.” I paused and continued, “So this is the reason he lives in the toilets? You know, their formation place.” I asked.
     “He lives anywhere in the country. He exists to spread a message. Whenever he wants to spread a message to the world, he hijacks a body from a living person. When a person is sleeping, he is able to control his/her body not for wrong reasons but for good reasons. The only way to recognize if your body was in his use is when you wake up very tired or sleep walking. When you are asleep, you lose your subconscious and he enters into you and use your body. When a person faints, it is him hijacking the body. He is not a bad person as people say he is. Actually, he is good guy. He lives to spread the message of love to everyone. But unfortunately, black people have painted him a bad guy. They have convinced their children that he is ugly and kills children; that he harms children. As a grown person you need to ask yourself questions. Where have you ever heard a story of Pinkie Pinkie killing a child? Don’t you think he could’ve killed thousands of children if he was a killer? Heh? Do not judge what you don’t know, or don’t judge at all. Right now you have painted him as a bad guy. What if one day he decides to be evil and kill your children one by one? What will you say? Are you going to blame him? Personally I wouldn’t blame him, he’s a bad guy in your eyes so what’s the point of him being kind to you when you don’t like him.  Don’t be a generation that will create aliens and haters. You need to teach your children to love and be less judgemental. Nobody has a right to judge anyone.” Bab’Khumalo said.
While he was busy sharing his wisdom with me, the nurse came in with a tray of food in her hands.
     “It is time for lunch Muzi.” She said placing the tray of food on the table that was beside him and I was left shocked and confused. Did she say Muzi or my ears heard wrong? I thought to myself.
After the nurse left, I was still in shock that she called him Muzi.
     “Wait, your name is Muzi?” I asked shocked.
     “Yes Cedric, I am Muzi Khumalo.” He said.
     “Let me make the sense out of this. Out of your three children, your daughter died in a fire. Your other daughter was adopted. Which then leaves your son.” I looked at him and continued, “Phiwe is your son right?” I asked trying to match the dots.
     “Yes Cedric. Phiwe was my son. A very brilliant child.” He answered and my eyes grew larger to what I just heard.
     “Wow! How?” my mouth opened to ask.
     “I don’t understand what you ask by how. You know, after my son passed away, all the villagers started cursing me and my family, saying we are the reason Phiwe killed Karabo. Karabo was a lovely child who was loved by many for her kindness; maybe that is why they took it in their interest to set my wife and daughter on fire. I was not told who set my family in a fire but I know it was them. I can swear with my life it was them. There’s no way hundreds of people could have failed to enter in the house and untie them. After losing my family in fire, I became emotionally paralyzed. The World was on my shoulders. Everyone had turned their backs against me. I had nowhere to go. I had no home I can call my own. My people had taken everything away from me. My wife. My children. I became mentally ill and I was taken to a psychiatric hospital after I was discharged from hospital. I spent almost a year there with no one visiting me. Not from my friends nor family members.
     When I was released, I had nowhere to go. My family had abandoned me. They called me names. They shamed me. They disowned me. Luckily, whilst in hospital I made few friends. During my recovery, one lady who was working inside suggested that I apply for a security job and I did. Before I got a job, I spent months jobless. Trash bins became my kitchen. The street became my home until I was helped by a friend of mine who let me sleep in his house for few days.
   I applied for a security job at Peterson High but they took me as a cleaner instead. I spent years working there with no home to go to until I got to JOJOS where they offered me a job and a place to stay. Today I may hate white people but I cannot forget what they have done for me. They gave me a shelter when my people had taken it away from me. It’s when I realized that not every white man is evil. Some are good and some are bad. Even with black people, some are good and some are evil. Now I have learnt that we cannot paint every person with the same colour. People are different. Not every white man is racist. Some have been taught to be racist. If people can be taught to hate, they surely can be taught to love. It’s time for us to start making difference. Make the change. Be the change we wish to see in the world” he said and continued, “Now that I have fulfilled what was in my heart, I’m ready to die in peace. Sharing my son’s story with you was the best thing to me. I have been keeping this story to myself with no one to talk to. Thank you for listening to my story Cedric. Now that you know, spread it to the entire world. Tell it. Teach it like I taught you. I trust you Cedric. This is my son’s only gift I can give to the world. I would be happy if more people hear this story. I want them to stop fearing my son. I want them to love him. He was a good boy.” Muzi Khumalo said.
     “I promise to share it to the world Bab’Khumalo.” I promised him.
     “You can now call me Muzi.” He said with a half-smile.
     “Muzi sounds weird... But I will tell the story like you told me.” I smiled.

Bab’Khumalo and I had a very good long conversation. We spoke until it was time for visitors to leave. I said my goodbyes and I left the hospital.
I caught a taxi to Sharpville.
When I got there, I called Sarah to ask how she arrived.
     “I arrived safe, thanks.” She said.
We had an awkward breathe-ins and after seconds, I hanged the call without asking more weird and stupid questions.