University is a strange place. It is like an ever busy intersection of the big city. The big buildings and long corridors can be a lot to take in. It’s a welcome change though…being anonymous. I come from Engcobo, I lived there all my life until now. Durban feels better less claustrophobic. I am still awestruck by the colourfulness of people here. They seem wild, not in a bad way – if you know free range chicken then you’ll understand. They seem unaffected by elements, they do what they want when they want. I like that. I certainly would like to feel that way. My father made me choose between Medicine and BSc Computer Science. These are great careers if you want to have money, I was told. I chose Computer Science, the thought of being a medical doctor; I have seen enough death to be honest. I would rather stare at a computer screens for the rest of my life. He was more invested in me being Dr Lucinda Boya. I promised I would study to PhD level and he’ll have a doctor in the house yet.
I enjoy Statistics 101 and I struggle Applied Maths 101. Miss Makhanya, Applied Maths Lecturer; grouped us for tutorials after the first term. She gave us tutorial schedules- for the right start she said. This seems like an ideal arrangement except it seems we are grouped by cliques and I don’t belong to one. These ones speak in a twang. It’s so intimidating. I must encoded and decode numbers and the English here in this place. If a person could afford a private tutor…I would probably afford a twang also. I hope it gets better because I need to ace the first semester.
It has been month since the start of the tutorials. It has not been too bad, except being mocked for speaking English like Mandela. Apparently my t’s are too sharp. I suppose it could be worse. I’ve been eyeing Nonhlanhla- we’ve been eyeing each other. She asked me if I wanted to decipher some of the encrypted codes together after dinner. I said I’d rather do it over dinner at 6. That was bold. I shocked myself. She likes pizza. I’ll order in and we can chill and work in my room. This exciting, I hope we are on the same page.
After the last lecture I rush to res. I tidy up and mop the floor with lemony Handy Andy. I go for a quick shower and put on my cute demin mini skirt. I spray the bedding and myself with Exclamation by Coty- I hope she likes it because I do not. It’s the only spray I’ve got until the 15th. Its 6pm and there’s a knock of my door, the room is snow white from the spray. This is a disaster, there goes my cool exterior. This girl will die of fumes in my room. I open the door ever so slightly. There she is a viscose floral dress- thick girls will leave you dizzy. I step outside quickly and close the door. She looks confused. I mumbled something about spraying to kill coakcroaches, she giggles. I am so relieved. I asked if she wants to sit outside until the smell dies down, we could order food so long.
We sit at the bench just outside the main door and we call to order. Tell me about yourself I say. Interview questions are the worst but it’s the only thing I could think of to break the ice. Nonhlanhla is 19 year old mother of one. She is the only girl of four siblings. Her parents weren’t too happy when she got pregnant. She took a gap year to be with her son until he was two. She loves numbers. She aspires to be an Actuarial Scientist. I confess I haven’t a clue what that is. She tries to pull me into the conversation I’m lost in her voice and some of the direct eye contact she keeps making with me. The pizza man arrives and we take the party inside. I hope my roommate comes back late.
Thank goodness she likes Oros, that’s all I’ve got. She arranges the Cryptography questionnaires and books on the study table while I pour our cool drink. She looks so comfortable. It helps because I am feeling intensely nervous still. “Rich kids killing coakroaches with perfume. They probably lick the opulence off you in your sleep.” she teases. We decide to eat before digging into the work. I tell her about me. Lucinda is a 17 year old from Engcobo raised by a single father and a village of woman hoping to be step-mothers one day. My aspirations are to make my father happy. I know it means being a doctor, of what - I don’t know yet. I am going with flow, may be after completing my degree I will know. That last part she didn’t look too impressed with. We got on with the work, she is truly a whizz with the number. We finished with the work just after 9 pm. I walk her to her room.
We’ve been hanging out a lot- well studying together a lot. I cooked her my tin fish and baked bean on macaroni and she loved it. The other day she brought me steamed bread and sugar beans with mincemeat – I don’t like sugar beans but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I like her. I can’t quite tell if it’s the same kind of like she has for me. After telling me she has a child I tried to put the thoughts of being together to the side but it’s hard. It is the end of the first semester and in a week we’ll all be going home. I am anxious at the thought of not seeing her for 3 weeks. We decide to do proper hang out the Thursday before we go home. I will ask her if she’s into me. I need to know.
On Tuesday afternoon she calls me, I am excited at the plans I suspect she has. “Didi my neighbour just came to fetch me my son isn’t well. I guess I’ll see you next semester.” I completely understood. I was no less hurt though. I checked on her later that afternoon. She told me her son got chicken pox from crèche and he’d be at Mshiyeni overnight because he had a terrible fever. She sounded terrible. I wanted to go be with her. I was unsure if it was my place. What if the father is there? She would have told me if she wanted me there right? I should have asked her.
The baby was discharge from hospital on Wednesday afternoon. I started my great trek to Engcobo on Thursday. In a few days the baby was fine. I started calling him “dotty” from the pictures she had sent me with calamine all over his body. I spoke to him a few time too. He’s chirpy like his mother. Home was great but I was absent minded always on the phone texting or calling. My father was not impressed. Unlike many parents he’d never felt like he had to worry about me and boys. The more he enquired about the Zulu boy who had all my attention is the more I wanted to go back to Durban.
After his evening smoke he carried on with his interrogation. This time he didn’t let go.
“Akho nkwenkwe tata.” I protested
“ Intokunayo ngubani lo uthe phithi nguye?” he enquired
“Igama lakhe nguNonhlanhla Ngobese.” With all the boldness I could master.
“ Lucinda, nihamba niye eThekwini nibuye seningoSomizi? Ufuze bani ngobutabane ngoba akhukho sitabane apha ekhaya.”
He walked out without touching his food. I could have dealt with anger. It is disappointment I was unprepared for. This conversation took me by surprise. Nonhlanhla called, I couldn’t answer. I can’t remember being so sad. It felt like someone had died. In that moment I was convinced that she didn’t feel the same. I hated myself for mentioning her name to my father, pushing a premature conversation. What if he never speaks to me again? School, I need to go back to school. I couldn’t sleep that night.
My father and I barely said a word to each other for a week. The Friday morrning before I had to leave, I woke up and put water on the stove and started to make porridge. I did not know what I would say when I see my dad. As I was stirring the porridge I could feel him staring at me from the door way. I focused on what I was doing even more, the bubbling of the porridge burnt my hand but I would rather that than face him. He walked in and sat at the table centre of the rondavel. He didn’t greet. He asked for tea. His voice sounded volatile. I made him tea. Gathered myself and served him in silence. I decided to go outside while the porridge cooked. As I was a walk out the door;
“ Uyaphi? Hlala phantsi.” He demanded.
I scurried to the table and sat far from him.
“Hlala apha ec’akwam.” He demanded again
I sat next to him. The lump on my throat relentless but I was determined not to cry. Now was not the time.
“ Uxolo ntomb’am.” his warm hand took my shaking hand.
“…uxolo sana lwam. Hayi ngoba ndiphoxekile ndiyakoyikisela, umhlaba ukhohlakele.”
The floodgates of tear ducts were open like a paid moaner. I sobbed as he held me.
I knew that this journey was just beginning, at least my dad was an ally. I suddenly dreaded the thought of going back to school. I had been terribly cold to Nonhlanhla.
I decided to go back to UKZN on the day school opened. It was a Tuesday. I decided I would start attending classes the following Monday. Though we were texting each other it had become infrequent. I told her I was back. I told her I would see her on Monday. From her silence I gathered it did not matter. On Friday, my roommate and I went to buy a few things. I needed soul food so I could hibernate properly. There she was at Glenwood Spar.
Sheepishly I go to her. She smiles. We hug. I ask if she’s able to come to my room later, I’ll cook. She said yes. I don’t have a plan, it seemed like the right thing to say. I am surprised she said yes. My room mate laughed as I used the few coins I have to buy lamb chops. The plan was mixed vegetable, mashed potato and lamb chops and tie it together with some wine.
My roommate cooked and left. Homey went hard on the garlic. I fried the meat. I took a quick shower, dressed in a cute black dress, and lightly sprayed Girl by Pharrell. At 6pm there was a knock at my door. She came in looking so pretty in blue jeans and a white t-shirt. I plated, it definitely didn’t look as wonderful as I thought it was in my head. She was impressed. We talked through the meal…it was a catch up session. I put the dishes away. She offered to wash then I declined. Do I tell her how I feel and then kiss her or should I kiss her and then ... She kissed me. Soft, lingering kisses, I was soaking wet and giddy. I had to come up for air. We had a short confession moment and the dumb wait because of uncertainty. It felt wonderful, wild not in a bad way – like free range chickens.
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