What Was There Before
She watches as maSmelane lights a green candle and begins to pray. Unsure of whether to close her eyes or keep staring at the dancing flame, Lethokuhle tries to concentrate on the words coming out of maSmelanes mouth.
“Angithi siyazwana?”
“Yebo siyazwana,” she responds softly and tries to not be taken a back by what she is being told. Kuhle was sure that there was foul play involved in her twin sisters passing. How else would she appease her guilt? What reason would she offer her soul if not this? She felt her body drain of energy and her eyes fill with tears when maSmelane told her that it was definitely Covid – 19 related complications that took her sister.
Her phone has been ringing nonstop since she left the house to come ukuzohlola kwa maSmelane. She is dreading the look that her mother will give her when she gets home. So she decides to take back-routes to make the drive back longer. She drives slowly and carefully.
Earlier that morning, her aunt begged her to exercise caution, told her it was a risk to leave the house in her condition.
“Awukaze ulale Kuhle. Ngiyak’cela mntanami, rest and I’ll take you first thing tomorrow morning,” words that had disarmed her stubbornness momentarily before she closed the kitchen door.
“Cuz?” she eventually answers Sonto’s call.
“Kuthiwa ngibuze ukuthi u how far,”
“Why?”
“uBabomkhulu uthi it’s time to go to the funeral home,”
“Ubaba uvumile?”
“Yes cuz, uGogo didn’t really give him much of a choice,”
“Oh, okay. Ngisendleleni,” she ends the call and instructs Siri to call Ntombi.
“uGogo managed to convince ubaba to do the twin rituals, well, modified rituals because of Covid,”
“How do you feel about it babe?”
“Ngiyafuna kodwa ngiyasaba,”
“Scared of?”
“Of doing it wrong, uGogo noBaba are yet to agree on the modifications,”
“Do you think it’s what Khetho would have wanted?”
“uKhethokuhle only believed in science baby, so angazi,”
“Okay and u maSmelane?”
“She didn’t say much after she confirmed what happened to Khethokuhle,”
“Are you on your way?” she continues
“Yes babe, I should be there before sunset. Ngiyathanda,” Ntombi ends the call.
Kuhle calls her back, “ Please drive safe, no need to rush. Since ubaba evumile, it means they won’t be slaughtering for this funeral,”
It has been thirty six hours since Khetho passed away. Her and Kuhle would speak on the phone everyday because no one was allowed to visit. Two days ago Khetho exclaimed that it felt like the longest week of her life. For Kuhle it felt like her heart shattered every morning when the realisation would land on her afresh. She would lie in bed in debilitation until Ntombi arrived. Ntombi would rub her back in supplication and after an hour, Kuhle’s body would begin to summon energy for the day.
She approaches her house and notices all the cars now scattered around her yard like a colony of ants. She decides to parks on the other side of the street. Before getting out of the car, she says a short prayer, thankful that she did not have a panic attack while driving back home. Sanele and Banele are the first to see her when she enters the gate. They walk to meet her at the round table full of different types of hand sanitisers, masks and a worn out sign-in sheet. “Matching golf shirts,” she smiles to her self when she recalls the day the twins decided that they no longer want uSis’Thulile to dress them the same. Since that day, to their annoyance, at least one item of their clothing matches. Banele hugs her. Their hug must have been too long she thinks when she feels Sanele peel Banele’s hand off her back. They smell like earthy menthol and musk.
The drive to the funeral home is quiet. No one speaks, not even her father and grandmother speak. She tries to get more information from her aunt but is only told that uGogo noBaba have agreed on what’s possible given the lockdown regulations.
When Khetho was hospitalised, their grandmother called a family meeting which included their younger brothers. The living room was brimmed with nervous energy tempered only by rays of light from the sunset. uGogo started explaining the twin rituals for funerals to them and their fathers facial expression changed manifesting his indignation.
“Mama, kanti that’s what you called us here for? Angeke, not my children,” he said. “Usaqhuba ngalento yakho of keeping things, our things, from your children Mthunzi?” she asks as her glance goes from her son to his wife.
Noma the writer 