Where you see risks I see opportunities. Opportunities for emptiness to be filled with existence, whether it be a physical or emotional manifestation. Time and again our logic tells us not to tread those waters, our commonsense bids us remain in these comfortable familiar surrounding, do not disturb the dust on the unexplored path. But what is logic any way? What is commonsense? It’s that thieving feeling you have before an uncertain victory; the feeling that if you go by, that uncertain victory turns into definite defeat. The reasoning within oneself that subconsciously says, “Aim low, you are not among the elite that has the strength and skill to aim so high.” How many times have you let fear govern your decisions? Fear should introduce you to faith, and faith works best when it is blind. When you close your eyes to all the possibilities of falling and trust that God has given you the ability to walk. Life and its experiences are all a great risk. You have to close your eyes and take the plunge. Live unstoppable, like the wind. Don’t see risk. See chance.

thought inspired by Dr Alfred Blalok

I felt a chill going down my spine. It was my duty to always protect my little sister and seeing her in this state with all the bruises and scars just tore me up inside. Her back had a long scar, very similar to the ones on Solomon’s back. I knew only one thing that could make that scar; a sjambok. The police had used them mercilessly during the apartheid days and I wondered where Vera got such a scar from. “Don’t worry Dee, it’s not as bad as it looks. Besides, it healed a long while ago.”

“That doesn’t answer my question Vera, what happened to your back? Who did this to you?”

She put on one of my dry blouses, as she answered, “It’s not important Dee, what’s important right now is that I am here.” While she was buttoning up the blouse, I stormed across the room and pulled it off her so I could examine her back. Salt water streams flowed down my face as I held her firmly in my hand. It was hard to get my words past the nostalgic lump in my throat, remembering how I had always been her protector; it’s hard to talk and repress your cry at the same time but I managed to squeeze the words out. “What’s been going on with you? Everything just happened so quickly with you, you dumped Kevin for no reason and the following week you just left. You only wrote once to give your address and we never heard from you again. If your address hadn’t been a post office box, I’d have come looking for you. Sis, I’m really glad you’re home. In fact, I’m glad you’re alive because I honestly thought I’d never see you again. The bottom line is you’re still my little sister, and I deserve to know what has been going on with you. I’m sorry I’m crying but I am just so excited and so hurt at the same time. I don’t know what really I am feeling; I don’t know whether to hug you or slap you for putting us through this.”

“I’m so sorry sis, I really am. I knew you guys were disappointed in me and the thought of letting mom down was just too much for me to bear. At the same time I had certain desires that I needed to fulfil, certain curiosities that I needed to satisfy so I decided to leave and pursue my dreams. I didn’t want life to pass me by, and I didn’t want to be stuck here and not experience the world outside…”

As she spoke, I got lost in her words, thinking of how I once had those same dreams and aspirations. How I wanted to experience the big cities, travel to different places, see different things and meet new people. I had even saved money to move to the city, but sacrificed my savings to pay for her university education. I was hurt. How could she? After all that’s why she managed to graduate before I did. I took time off school to work and save money to put us both through university as well as help Paula finish off high-school, then she goes & runs off like this to pursue a dream that I sacrificed for her. I can’t say I was angry with her; I was more disappointed by her ingratitude than anything else. I faded back from my thought to hear what she was saying.

“…this place had nothing to offer me Dee, I just couldn’t see myself going to fetch water at the well every morning, cooking over a fire and inhaling the smoke everyday. Dee, take a look at mom, she worked like a slave raising us, taking care of dad and taking care of the land, and even now she’s stuck doing that stuff. I bet she’s slaving over the fire right now with two pots and dad is just sitting there telling stories like he always does.”

“Vera!” I yelled. I felt a cold chill on my body as she said that. I must have startled her with my sudden shout because she leaped off the bed. Then it occurred to me, she didn’t know dad had passed away. That’s why she hadn’t come home for the funeral or the memorial service. I couldn’t understand how she would not know, I wrote to her every month for the first two years. She would not reply and that didn’t surprise me; after all, she didn’t reply our letters when she was in university. I now had to break it to her.

“What is it Dee, why are you yelling?”

“Tell me something sis, did you get my letters? I wrote to you every month for 2 years until I got tired of not getting responses.”

“I got letters from you on the first 3 months, and I replied each one. I even wrote to you when you stopped writing. I always asked Mandla to mail them for me because our post office box is close to where he works.”

Mandla; I cringed whenever I heard that name. If there was ever a repellent made for me it was him. Everything about him did not agree with me. I just couldn’t put my finger on it but something about him wasn’t right. What made me loathe him was the fact that Vera broke up with a perfectly good man so she could go out with him. She thought he the best thing since sliced bread, but something about his character wasn’t right. Looking into his eyes, I could find no hint of honesty or goodness in him and that was enough for me not to trust him.

“Well I didn’t stop writing until two years after you left V, and the only reason I stopped is because I was getting no response and it was painful for me to continue. One of the last letters I wrote you was telling you that dad had passed away; when you didn’t reply that and didn’t show up for the funeral. I figured that you just didn’t care and wanted nothing to do with us.”

Vera had a stoic expression on her face and I could see a new pain dawning in her eyes. She covered her mouth and fell on her knees and as tears started from eyes and she let out a high shriek. If there is anything I hate more than the squeaking of the cart, it’s the sound of my sisters crying. It makes me feel so helpless. As I leaned over to hug her, there was a knock on the door. "Diana, its Kevin, can I come in?"

abstract by Tedd V. Chapter 4 coming on Jan 3

What do I have to do to make you love me? What do I have to do to make you care? What do I have to do to make you hug me? What do I have to do to make you share a day with me? I mean all I’m asking is that one day you go away with me, to a place where it can be just you and me. No phone calls, no newspaper, no TV, just you and me. I long for a day we can just kick back and relax, just watch the sky while we lie on our backs and soak up the sun. When we can take time to get to know each other, we see each other almost every day, but I don’t even know your favourite colour.

Last night I waited up late for you; you came in past midnight, went and took a shower and went straight to bed. No word, not even a “goodnight.” Last week, I made your favourite meal; it got cold on the table, so I put it in the oven and left you a note. Only to wake up the next day and find you brought home a doggy bag from Big Joe’s. Something seems unnatural in this relationship, something seems off. Almost like I’m an employee and you’re the boss. I feel like I’m working hard to earn a bonus, and you’re bracing yourself to fire me. In that case why did you hire me?

Like a fool I linger and tolerate, I know I should go but somehow I wait, hoping that you will turn around and look at me different. Hoping you’ll one day see me here waiting, see me here aching, see me here wanting to feel wanted by you. Wanting to feel loved by you, wanting to be hugged by you & wanting to be your number one, your first choice when you want to have fun in the sun. Hoping you’ll let me ride shotgun, hoping you’ll treat me like your son.

What do I do to make you want me? What do I have to say to be heard? What do I do to bring you closer? Daddy, please tell me I can’t take this hurt.

Written in by Tedd V. 1997 Inspired by Elton John - Dedicated to my father. (Things have since gotten better)

Ma always said it best, “When it rains it pours.” I always took that literally, and it was fitting for the moment I reunited with my sister. The clouds just let loose on us, and we were soaked within seconds. What I didn’t know was the metaphorical context to which that phrase could be applied, the raining within the soul, that rain is harder to bear than the natural. Vera had always been a happy go lucky girl. Things seemed to always fall in her favour and she reminded me of Joseph with his coat of many colours, only she didn’t have envious siblings. We always looked out for her and were supportive of her good decisions. She was the pretty one in the family and never had trouble attracting boys. She was smart and had good ambitions, even though she was two years younger than me, she completed her degree before I did; for a rural girl in this harsh country, that was an awesome achievement. One thing I admired about her was her free spirit. Nothing ever got her down, and if there was something that bothered her, she didn’t let it bother her for long. Something was wrong though, something that put me in my big-sister protective role.

She had an unsightly swelling on the left side of her face, signs that her cheek had an unplanned encounter with a blunt object, perhaps more that once in a short period of time. Her eye couldn’t fully close because it too was badly swollen. I would have noticed the tears streaming from her face were it not for the rain falling so heavy on us & I know she would have noticed mine too. She didn’t have to tell me what had happened, it was painfully written on her face. The welts on her arm as well as the scars & bruises told a well detailed story. I remember thinking how sad that situation was; it took such physical violence for her to remember her way home. The most important thing at that moment was that she was home. As much as I wanted to know what happened to her, I had to wait for her to stop sobbing before I could ask. In freemasonry, I lowered myself, hunched over her & embraced her.

“Diana,” mom called out for me, “Diana, you’re too old to be playing in the rain. Get inside” I guess I’d been out for a little too long; long enough to get her worried about me.

“Dee, you can’t let her see me like this. I have to hide somewhere until the swelling goes down.”

I would have felt the same way. I know she would have loved to feel mom’s embrace at a time like that, but at the same time, she did not want to cause her any stress. I had to respond quickly to avoid ma coming to where we were. “I’ll be there in a bit mamma,” I yelled, “the mule broke out of the kraal so I had to keep him away from the crop.” I hate lying to her, but I had no choice. “Quick, get into my room and take a short nap. I’ll go and make tea for ma then I’ll come to you. I need to know exactly what happened to you, so you better quit your crying quick.”

As I walked back to the main hut, I felt a heaviness setting in on my feet so naturally I walked a little slow. I thought it was because of the mud that had accumulated on them, but looking back, I have a feeling it was because I didn’t want to be away from my sister. It was only for a short little while but I knew that she came back home because she wanted to feel loved, she wanted to feel a familiar closeness. I know how it is to need someone to be there close to you yet be met with the cold embrace of solitary confinement. This brief experience adduced my own sadness from five years ago, a time when I had needed Vera the most but she was no where to be found. It rained on that day too, and similarly I felt that no matter how hard the rain fall, it could never wash away the dirt I felt.

“My goodness child did you go swimming in your clothes?” mom exclaimed as I wiped the mud off my feet at the door. “It sure is falling heavy out there and with no warning too. I hope we get steady rains for a couple of months to at least give our crop a chance at to survive till the harvest.”

“I sure hope so too mom, it would be nice to be able to sell some sugar cane like we used to.”

Her countenance changed when I mentioned selling sugar cane. Her face elongated and her bright smile disappeared like morning dew on a hot summer’s day. “What’s wrong mom? Are you alright?”

“I’m alright my dear - I just had a nostalgic moment when you mentioned selling sugar cane. That’s what I was doing the day Vera left.” My heart skipped a beat. “It’s been six years and nine months you know, and I still haven’t heard from her. I sometimes dream that she’s in trouble, that she’s hurting somewhere but feels like she can’t come back. I wonder if she’s even alive.” My heart sank. I could hear the pain in her voice as she said this, and I could see the pain in her eyes. I wanted to tell her not to worry, but at the same time I didn’t want her to stress after seeing her in that state. “I’m sure she’s fine where ever she is ma,” I said as I snapped the twigs to start the fire. “You raised us remember? We’re strong because of you and we can take care of ourselves.”

She sat and stared at the kettle in the fire, fanned it a little and said, “You are right, I raised you to be strong, but you can’t take care of yourselves. Along the way you picked up pride and stubbornness from your aunt, so I’m afraid for you girls. Out of the three of you, I worry the least about Paula.” She paused for a few seconds, and as I slipped some bread into a small bag, I noticed her eyes watering. “You and Vera just didn’t get it the way Paula did. You are no match for men. That’s why I’m always so afraid for you two.”

Some things ma said where hurtful, but one thing I always respected her for speaking the truth. As I watched the tears welling in her eyes, I felt mine run obstreperously down my cheek. I thought of what had just happened to Vera, I thought of what had happened to me five years ago. I was overcome with a sensation of worthlessness. Recalling all the things mom had tried so hard to teach us, and in our seemingly wise foolishness we were bent on rebelling against her, just to prove her wrong. Vera’s struggle and mine were different, but they both stemmed from the same seed. I poured out the tea for ma, and gave her the last two slices of bread. “Will you be needing anything else ma? I want to get into some dry clothes and lie down for a little while before I make dinner. I have a slight headache.”

“No my child, I’m well satisfied for now. I think I’ll do some knitting in here while it rains. You go ahead and rest. It’s been a long day for you.”

With that I grabbed the small bag with the bread and made haste through the pouring rain to my hut. I opened the door slowly thinking Vera may have been asleep, but I found her sitting on the bed in the process of changing her wet clothes too. She had just removed her blouse too, with her back to the door. I froze because of what I saw. The bag dropped to the floor along with my jaw. “Oh my goodness Vera, what happened to your back!?!” What mamma said was true, when it rains it pours.

abstract by Tedd V - to be continue on Dec 27

That high squeak coming from the old greaseless axle always annoyed me. I had tried to use the left over chicken fat to lubricate it but to no avail. After a couple of hours of running back and forth to the water well and to the stores on grandpa’s mule cart, the quick fix would wear out and the squeak seemed to be a little louder. That day was different, it had a piercing effect; a sound that harrowed my very core. It made me cringe, almost similar to my school days, when Miss Nyawiri would scratch her fingers on the chalk-board to get the students’ attention when we were making noise. Maybe it was because mom decided to come along to fetch water with me that day, and the extra weight was causing the unusual and unwelcome pitch. In any case, home seemed so far away, more so because I couldn’t stop at the soccer field to watch the boys play, and of course to see my special friend Solomon.

Despite all the unpleasant little peeves I was enjoy the ride with mom. We spent every day together and always had something interesting to discuss. Since dad passed away and my siblings moved out, I’m all she has left, so she holds on to me like a promise. I’ve practically had to put my life on hold to take care of her. I even asked Solomon to be patient as far as marriage goes. He’s been waiting for just over a year now. Taking care of ma is really no challenge at all; being that she is self sufficient for the most part. I just feel bad leaving her alone and moving on with my life, especially knowing how much she sacrificed for us when she was younger. I work a part time job, so that I can spend as much time with her as possible. Maybe it’s because we almost lost her to breast-cancer last year, hence the uncertainty of how much time she has left on this earth makes me cherish her more. Every minute I spend with her is precious, but that didn’t change the annoying squealing of that wheel. It seemed like I was the only one that found it bothersome because as I looked up at mom, I saw her smiling as the sun bounced off her face. I can’t help but wonder if she has an off switch for her hearing. It’s quite surreal how nothing seems to bother her now. It’s almost as though she takes on anything that comes with an attitude that says, “I’ve been through worse, I’m sure I can handle you.” I admire that about her.

After a seemingly long ride the homestead was in our sights and the sun that had been so relentlessly beating on mom and I, began to now sheepishly retreat behind a mass of neoteric dark clouds. That’s when I noticed her slumping over her bag at the door of our old hut. Vera. It had been years since she wrote home, even longer since she came to see mom. My excitement at seeing her was quickly overshadowed by a protective air. I took advantage of mom’s short-sightedness; knowing she hadn’t spotted her, I steered the mule wide so that Vera’s figure was concealed from mom by the hut. The distant rolling of thunder and the smell of rain in the air brought a nostalgic feeling of the day Vera left. I remembered vividly her harsh word, I remembered thinking if I ever saw her again it would be too soon. The feeling was different now. Six years is a lot of time for emotional wounds to heal. I had a new bone to pick with her. She hadn't come home when dad passed away & didn't even call when mom was sick with breast cancer. None the less, I had missed her and I couldn’t wait to talk to her.

Examining the quickly darkening sky, mom said, “finally, the crop will see some moisture, I’ll get the clothes off the line, they should be dry by now,” and with a wide smile on her face she slid off the cart and made her way to the clothesline, while I proceeded to unload the water at the kitchen before loosing the mule into the kraal. After all had been put away I made my way to the hut where my estranged sibling was slumped over; my heart was racing and I had no idea what the initial reunion would be like. So much had happened since she stormed off, so much time had passed; an overwhelming rush of mixed emotions came over me, and though I was angry at my younger sister, I struggled to hold back the tears of joy I had. As I drew closer to the hut, my quick pace turned into a slight trot; I couldn’t contain my anxiety any longer, much more, I couldn’t restrain myself from calling out to her. “Vera, Vera, come out from behind there,” I yelled with excitement in my voice. I just wanted to embrace her and forget about all our differences. As I reached the hut, I heard the crack of lightning, and felt a big raindrop fall on my left cheek right below my eye. There she was, my sister, still hunched over her bag – at that moment I knew that this was not going to be the sweet reunion I had just recently anticipated. As if on cue, the rain started pouring heavily, providing the perfect disguise for the tears streaming down my face as well as Vera’s

abstract by Tedd V. to be continued on Dec 20