I'm South African

Today I am Zimbabwean, tomorrow Nigerian and every other day I am Congolese! Most confuse my Identity. This started when I moved to Cape Town for my postgraduate studies in the University of the Western Cape. In campus, most French-speaking students would speak to me and I would respond in English. I would see the sudden change in their faces showing a sense of disappointment. To them, I have everything about me confirms that I am their own. At this time, the only word I knew was ‘Je Tem’ (I love you) which was never useful in most basic contexts. Some Zimbabweans find it funny when I say “I am South African” while I can speak fluent Shona. They think I’m one of those ‘Harare wanabees’ who came to South Africa at a young age and claim they are citizens. To add to this misperception, most people cannot locate my English accent anywhere in South Africa. 

Woes befall me at a police station when I lost my ID in 2010. This was not plain sailing because police wanted to depot me as I was “claiming” that I have lost my ID when I never had one-assuming my foreign status. I was at this station with my Zimbabwean husband, to the police, this confirmed my conspiracy. Fortunately, my FIFA accreditation (was working for FIFA at the time) had my ID number on it. In this baffle state, I could not stop laughing at four policemen who were clueless about Venda people from the Limpopo Province. In my mind, I’m thinking ‘how did this people get into this uniform when they have limited knowledge of their country’. The truth is: my great grandfather belonged to one of the last groups to descend from Central Africa to Zimbabwe. He settled in there where he married a Zimbabwean woman who gave birth to my grandfather and his siblings. However, when the dark-cloud of border war began around the late 1920s, my grandfather and his siblings fled to South Africa and settled in the north-eastern part of the Limpopo. Here- in South Africa, the generation of my father came about. Therefore, I am South African!

The words which changed my life

Memories of my dad are full of inspirational situations which I still refer to till today. My father was a self-driven, hardworking and persevering man. He only rested during bed time or in the holidays. He valued time and money more than anything; hence he had a successful flower business which became a business where everyone in the family was an employee. My father made it clear that it was the source of our survival and everyone should get involved. Although he had a day job, the nursery was his first and last stop to and from work. Years later, he fell sick and decided to take an earlier retirement. To him, this was a chance to invest more time in his business. On his sick bed, he would still draw up landscaping plans for his clients. He would still drive from one flower wholesaler to the next stocking up more plants for the nursery. As if this was not enough for a sick person, he would work at our cash-crop farm where we grew cabbages, tomatoes and onions. At 16, I started to realise that my father was falling ill but still wanted to continue with his work. My mother always complained to the elders to warn my father to rest since he never listened to her. My father enjoyed looking at the stars at night and that eventually became a hobby to me too. As we sat outside one night, I asked him, “Daddy why is it that you never want to rest?” his answer was simply “Nothing comes when you are sleeping”. These are the words which changed my life.

Aha! It is what it is: Short Story

Aha! It is what it is…

It was Sunday morning after a fabulous student bash and the campus was peacefully silent. The vodka I drank with the free beer from the Miller sponsors had not helped my condition. I needed something strong to get rid of my heavy head so I dragged my legs to the café. I had to deal with my hangover because my business communications lecturer was definitely not going to listen to my usual crap of having anxiety attacks. Everyone was wasted. I could only spot a few churchgoers heading off to their congregations.

In the distance, I saw an ebony black USV ML Mercedes Benz. With my obsession for cars, I couldn’t help but stare. My eyes were glued on this car.

“Who could have got such a catch?” I thought. The car drove closer to me and Camilla’s voice came from the car,. “What’s up Dubem? she shrieked ”. Camilla was wearing a leather jacket with a white Guess top with .an 16 inch Brazilian weave. Her camera-ready makeup made her look like she was ready for a photo shoot.   Camilla and I go way back. She is the first person I was confident enough to brand ‘friend’ considering how careful I was in selecting company.

Camilla was in the passenger seat with a handsome lad in the drivers’ seat.

“Bonjour Dubem” he greeted with a huge white-teethed smile which contrasted nicely with his dark chocolate skin. Still not quite grasping what Camilla was doing in his car, I just smiled back at him. Oh ya, it’s that rich dude from East London, the ‘business man’ Camilla always talked about. He was quite a catch, just perfect for Camilla.

“Hey, how did it go last night? Did DJ Cleo really come…and was the beer really free?” she asked. “ Ya it rocked, I thought we had a deal to get wasted together ”. “Oh yeah that” she explained I’ll chat to you later…I need to pack as I’m moving out of campus. I’ll be staying in town. I want to see you before I leave though”- Camilla said as she deliberately played with her thick gold chain which matched her bracelet. Her voice was drowned out as the tires screeched as they pulled off.

I headed towards the café. My hangover was replaced by Camilla’s dubious act.  

On my way back, I decided to pass by Ioma’s room- just to see how she was keeping up after the sad news of her break up. She sat on her bed, her light skinned face could not hide that she spent most of the night crying. I always wondered why Ioma’s kindness and beauty attracted hooligans for boyfriends. I met Ioma at the campus Catholic Church. We became friends and I introduced here to Camilla. Unlike Camilla and I, Ioma was very serious about her Catholic faith. We only went to church when we bought new clothes or when there were youth festivals. Of cause Camilla would always catch a hunk from other another university for a few days fling.

“Dubem, how much more praying do I have to do to get a decent man? I am 27, and still can’t find a man who is serious enough to marry me. Do we still have men who are ready to settle in our generation?” she said sobbing. “I think I understand Camilla’s decision now.” “What do you mean”? I asked with growing anger. “Ooh so she didn’t tell you”? She said tauntingly.

“I hate it when you play the guessing game with me Ioma, Is she dropping out of varsity? She just told me that she is moving out of res…she dare not think of dropping out because I’m sick of covering her bum to her parents”. “I still hate myself so much for lying about the 4 pregnancies she aborted.  I still have to maintain the “violent stomach bug and period pain” story to her parents every time I go back home. Ioma, do you know that Camilla’s Mom suspected that I knew how she passed her final exams with such low term marks?. Do you know how embarrassing it is every time I see Prof Diaz in the classroom, knowing how he gave her a pass?  I know for a fact that her mother didn’t buy my ‘extra tutorial’ crap. 

“Ok, whatever… you choose to perfect your lying skills, so it’s not a biggy for you” Ioma said hurtfully. I’m sure you’ll need extra conspiratorial skills for this one. Camilla is married”- she said with a chuckle.

I felt heat in my stomach from anger; I could feel my whole body shaking. The English language vanished from my tongue and all I could do was screaming in Venda -“I am so done with this shit, I am going to her room right now”- I stormed out of Ioma’s room. 

I dug out my phone from my tight jeans and made the call yelling,  “Brace yourself bitch, coz you’ll love the shit ama through at you, it ends today”.

Without knocking I went inside her room and pulled her to the bathroom for some privacy. “Tell me Camilla, what business does José do? What did he promise you that you choose to marry him instead of completing your degree?” I shouted and could hear the echo of my voice in the bathroom.

Camilla held my hand softly to calm me down. “Listen Dubem, I know he is a drug dealer- a successful one actually. José and I have an excellent deal. He offered me R250 000 cash, if I can marry him to speed up the citizenship process. So this is what you’ll do for me. I’m not going home this vacation… and guess what? I’ve already cooked a story this time around. If my mom asks you- I am doing an internship with Deloite”.

Camilla had disconnected herself from reality. “Such stupidity, are you sure you didn’t smoke crack before you made this foolish decision?” I yelled.

Dubem…it is what it is, you lie about this or you spit it out…I actually don’t give a dam. “I’m not sure you understand the gravity of this issue, are you sure you really don’t give a hoot about how this will come out? You’ll have a lot to explain dear, your secrets are all coming to the open” I said furiously. Ya whatever, let’s not forget that I am not the only one with secrets! Camilla shouted.

Camilla…about that, I told my mother about my affair with my step mother a long time ago. You can actually call her as I’m saying. If you were not busy hunting wealthy men, you would have known how that issue was resolved. Do you even know where your step-father is? Yes…I thought as much.

In the midst of this yelling session, Camilla’s phone rang; she looked at it and put a smile on her face as she answered it. “Hi mommy, how are” she said. Her face changed, she became pink… “You’re what?

Now it was my moment…wow it felt awesomely good to say “; “do you want me to go fetch them from the main gate”? I said with a wide smile. It is what it is girl!!