Shut The Hell Up Im Counting Shirt

I take a deep breath. I can’t cry. Shut The Hell Up I’m Counting Shirt! When it comes to mama I have to be strong, I’m all she has and I’ve had to be strong for her more times than I can count. What’s wrong mama? I ask, my voice so thin I doubt she heard me. She says she hasn’t been well for days now and has been waiting for me. Waiting for me to do what? Whatever it is, tell me I’ll do it. I’m here now, I say, taking her hand into mine. She feels so cold. Oh Lwezi, is all she says before coughing uncontrollably and signalling me to get out with her hand. I cover her up and tell her I’ll be outside.

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I’m sure it’s just a cold, I’ll make her tea and she’ll be just fine. She has to be buried next to father, I hear my eldest brother say as I approach from behind them. What? Are you making funeral arrangements? For mama? She’s alive and she’ll be just fine, I scream at them. Shut The Hell Up I’m Counting Shirt! She’s dying Lwezi, stop acting like a child, my corny brother says. I turn around and run. I keep running, wishing to get as far away from the possibility of my mother dying as possible. The voice of my eldest brother telling me to come back fades into thin air behind me. I don’t stop until I make it to the chief’s home.

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I didn’t mean to come here, I just did. Shut The Hell Up I’m Counting Shirt! The elders are still at the gathering when I shoot past them and run behind the kitchen and to the house Ngqabutho disappeared to earlier when he said he needed a T-shirt. To my surprise and relief, none of the elders follow me and from here they can’t see me. My legs give up on the doorstep but I force my knuckles to knock. My chest is burning and begging for oxygen and my throat is dry and scratchy. I knock again and again and again. Nothing. Maybe I have the wrong house. My mind is so baffled by the sudden turn of events that it’s failing to grasp onto meaningful thoughts.