Thulubonge Mpande

Thula’s second alarm rings. She puts her pen down and presses the snooze button. The music starts playing again and she continues writing until her mind is lighter and her heart is satiated. She reaches for her phone and switches off the snooze timer and sees a missed call from Mama.

“Mama, my phone’s on do not disturb, I’m sorry I missed your call …” she hears the sirens in the back ground and her panic sets in.

28 years ago:

The sound of hail pelting the roof and the windowsills wakes Mosa. She had fallen asleep to the soft sound of the rain. She regrets not wearing her plush gown as she slowly waddles to the kitchen. Containers with last nights leftovers line the middle shelf of the fridge. “sesi Ruth,” she mumbles to herself. She opens one of containers and takes out a piece of chicken and bites it. With her other hand she picks up two eggs. The cold chicken is finished by the time she is done making her egg and atchar sandwich. She places it on the same plate as the chicken bones and goes back to the bedroom to wear something warm.

The crack of the last bone is followed by a warm pressure on her lower back and then a pain in her lower abdomen. Shards of bones land on the floor as she heaves in response to the pain. “No no no Dineo, you’re early,” Mosa thinks to herself while dialing sesi Ruth’s number.

Sesi Ruth looks out of her office window but doesn’t see nate Isaac’s van. She breaths through the panic and walks to her managers office. “It’s my sister, it’s time,” is all she says without crossing the threshold and he nods back and says good luck. “Ausi,” nate Issac greets and sesi Ruth sighs with relief as she makes her way to the taxi rank. He tells her that he had to go to the market to help pack up and close for the day. The hail was damaging some of their fresh produce. He was home unloading their stock when she called. “Issac is on his way okay. He’ll take you to the hospital and I’ll meet you there. I’ll be there by the time you get there,” she tries to assure her.

Ntate Issac parks the van behind a University of Free State kombi. The driver complains but stops mid sentence when he sees Mosa climbing out. The nurse instructions people to get out of the way as he wheels her into the hospital. Ntate Issac walks in with them and makes sure that she gets seen by the doctor immediately. A miss Mpande is understanding when the doctor excuses herself and secretly hopes that she won’t have to wait another 25 minutes before the next doctor is available. It’s 35 minutes later and sesi Ruth calls to say that she is almost at the hospital. Ntate Issac’s lunch hour is long over and he has to get back to work. He takes Mosa’s hospital bag and walks back into the hospital and they still refuse to let him past reception because he is not family. By some luck, he sees miss Mpande going to the reception desk to be discharged. She signs awkwardly with her right hand and makes her way towards the exit.

“Miss Mpande, thanks again for being understanding earlier,” he says while standing up from his chair.

“Oh, igama lami uNobuhle. You must be excited for the new addition to the family. Congratulations,” she smiles.

“Thank you. Can you please help me with this,” he lifts the cream bag with fluffy pastel colored balloons on the pockets.

“They won’t let me past reception. Her name is Mosa Mamohato. I’m Issac, their pastor. I have to go back to work, but don’t worry, her older sister, Ruth, is on the way.”

“Erm, is she far?”

“No, 10 to 15 minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll take the bag to her.” He thanks her and hesitantly walks towards the sliding doors.

To get past reception, Nobuhle tells the nurse that she has a few more question for the doctor. It doesn’t take her long to find the maternity ward.

“Mosa, hi. I believe this is yours. Bab’ Issac usehambile. He had to go back to work.”

“Dumela. Thank you,” she says in a manner that prompts Nobuhle to introduce herself.

“Oh, I’m Nobuhle. Your sister should be here in 10 minutes.”

“Okay, thank you. Can you please stay until she comes. It’s my first time here,” she smiles softly and Nobuhle sits on the maroon plastic chair next to her.

“Well, you know why I’m here, what happened to you?”

Nobuhle smiles and instinctively lifts her arm to show her cast,” I’m the Ukzn netball coach. Sprained my wrist during a match earlier today. It was the hand or my face you know.”

“You need a ‘slippery when wet’ sign,” they laugh and continue talking about the events that occurred to get them to that moment.

“So, I hope I’m not being too forward for asking. What was the occasion for isiphandla that you’re wearing?”

“I was celebrating the 2 year anniversary emsebenzini, so I had a small thanks giving ceremony with my family.”

“Family? They must be proud of you,” she says hoping that Nobuhle had missed her uneven tone.

“Yes, ugogo nomah we’re glad I did it.”

A chime comes from the bag and Mosa reaches to take her phone out of one of the pockets. Nobuhle looks away in an effort to give her some privacy. “I’m 15 minutes away, road block delayed us, you know how people loose their driving skill when it’s raining,” Mosa reads the message out loud and searches Nobuhle’s face for a reaction to the update.

“I’ll stay until she arrives, but I have to make a call first,” she says and excuses herself.

Nobuhle returns and there is an awkwardness between them now that was not there before. An awkwardness born from Nobuhle wondering if she should explain and from Mosa’s muted curiosity.

“The assistant coach from the other team drove me here and insisted on waiting for me. I’ve told them to go and I’ll catch a taxi back later.”

“That’s nice of them. And thanks for waiting with meeeeeh,” another contraction comes and Nobuhle holds Mosa’s hand through it.

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