Growing up

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Chapter Five

Am I allowed to call him a father? No I am not. I don’t know how I feel about this. I don’t know how to respond and if I have to respond? Can’t I just walk away without saying a word? No, then I will be one of them. There won’t be any difference between me, my biological father and the people who raised me.

I can’t stand straight but l regain my composure. “I am sorry you all went through that but it’s no justification to treat me like crap. You should have given me up for adoption, there are many couples out there who want children. I am not my father, I don’t even know who that is and I will never be like him, but I will also never be like you two. I don’t understand why you did everything. What makes you better than the people who hijacked you? Nothing? You are all the same: you are beasts! I am going to go and never come back like you requested! Give my greetings to Buhle when she comes back,” I say and walk towards the window. My mother tells me to wait, that she is sorry. I look at her and tell her it’s too late now and that they should get professional help. I jump out the window and take the key outside where I threw it and open for them. Then I walk away.

When I exit the gate I see Mr Mali’s car coming towards me; his wife tells me to get in the car. “It is 09:30. Remember you had to get your test results at 09:00. What happened? Why didn’t you call?” she asks. I look at her and I can’t help but sob, uncontrollably.

I don’t know where I am going but I know I need to be alone. One thing I have learnt out of all this madness is the fact that people don’t just ‘help’. They always have hidden agendas which feeds their own egos and pride. I leave the car without looking back....

Suddenly someone grabs my arm violently. “What the fuck! Don’t fucken touch me or I will kill you!” l snap. I turn around and look at the person who is holding my hand. Mrs Mali. She hugs my trembling body tight for a very long time. I am defeated so I give in and I lie on her chest and cry. After a long time she breaks the hug, holds both my shoulders and look me in the eyes and say: “Aviwe I don’t know what you have been through but I can see you are scared. I feel your pain, all I ask is you to let me in, let me in your life, let me help you. Viwe, you don’t have to go through this alone. I want to help you! You are young and have a great future ahead of you. All you have to do is to let people help! I am not asking you to trust me & uncover your soul to me; I am just asking you to let me help you! Let me take you to the hospital, let me give you a bathroom so you can get cleaned up, let me give you cookies and coffee, let me give you life, let me give you all of me. Let me do what God tells me to do. Let me do the right thing and help you,” says Mrs Mali with tears running down her cheeks.

I don’t say a word as I hug her as a response. When we get to the car, we find her husband patiently waiting for us. When we get in, he smiles and drives to the hospital. We ride in silence, only hearing the purring of the sound engine. After sometime Mr Mali complains about hunger he asks if I have eaten anything. I tell him I haven’t but l am ok. He just looks at me and keeps quiet, then he stops next to Eyesizwe butchery and enters.

I am left with Mrs Mali in the car, it’s so awkward. She then tries to break the awkwardness by saying: “You look tired and your eyes are swollen, you need a very hot bubble bath and a long, long sleep.” Then she smiles and brushes my shoulder. I smile too. Her husband comes back with a lot of fried chicken breasts, bread and orange juice. “I know you don’t eat red meat, Viwe,” he says as he sits behind the driving wheel. The meat looks divine.. I smile and ask who told him! He does not reply, instead he winks at me, his wife laughs and takes a piece of meat and eats. I take a piece too. “I thought you are not hungry,″ says Mr Mali. “I’m not hungry, I just want a taste,” I reply with a light smile, we all laugh. “Hold your horses my child,” says Mr Mali, we laugh again. Mrs Mali tells her husband to leave me alone and let me eat in peace. “Ok so y’all are ganging up on me? Alright, I give up let me drive you to hospital. We are already late.” He then starts the car and drives to the hospital.

We arrive to the hospital exactly 10:00. There is a long a queue. Mrs Mali is well known and loved all over. She is the hardest core Magistrate who is famous of throwing the bad boys behind Bars! After seeing how long the queue is she tells us to wait there while she is going to ‘talk’ to the doctor. Within a few minutes she comes back with a smile all over her face and takes my hand telling me that the doctor is waiting for me. Mr Mali shakes his head and says “I wonder what you’ve said to the doctor! I don’t have a wife here.” They both smile at each other.

When we get to the doctor’s room, he is reading some papers. He tells me to have a seat and that he already has the results from the tests. He continuous saying: “Good news is: you are HIV negative, you are free to all the STDs, you are healthy and kicking and you are two months pregnant.” Then he looks at me calmly. “I want you to take it out. I don’t want a child of rape. I wouldn’t want anyone to go through what I am going through,” I said with anger!

“Doctor, please give us some time.” says Mrs Mali who had been quiet all along. The doctor tells us to leave and come back when we have discussed whatever we want to discuss. He tells us that he still has to attend other patients.

Mrs Mali’s face changed, it’s so strange. The loving, sweet and sparkling Mrs Mali I know is gone. Her eyes show that she is deeply hurt but I can’t comprehend what exactly is hurting her. She tells her husband that everything went well and that we should leave. Then she fakes a smile. “Alright I know that smile, what’s wrong?” her husband asks. “It’s nothing l am just tired I need to go home.” She then holds me by the hand and leads me to the car. Mr Mali drives. No one says a word along the way.

When we get to their home, it’s a beautiful double story house, its quiet I wonder if there is anyone staying here except Mr and Mrs Mali. She goes upstairs and runs me a hot bubble bath, calls me and gives me new towels. She shows me a spare room and tells me that it’s my room from now on. She gives me a big red toiletry bag, inside the bag there are body lotion, body perfume, roll-on, soap, pads, and a hair removal kit. This lady is awesome, but I am troubled by her look. I wonder what she wanted to ask when she asked the doctor to give us space, I am praying that she is not planning to change my mind about the abortion because she will be hurt and she will hate me. I won’t change my mind and nobody will make me to change my mind. I don’t want a reminder of the past. I am planning a new life, I want to forget about the past and have a great new life and that I can’t do with a child.

No I better get rid of this before it’s too late. This runs through my mind while I am sitting in the bath tab. Mrs Mali was right: I needed it.

Well Mrs Mali’s face-expression-change is not worth to think about anymore because I can’t get to the bottom of it at all. I will deal with it when she says something. Thinking about something you don’t know is a waste of time. The water goes cold and I get out of the bath tab. I go to my bedroom, lock the door and then I take off the towel. My eyes run all over the room. It’s simple and beautiful. There is a double bed, a head board, a huge mirror on the wall and a mini closet. After assessing the room I put a lotion on my dark skin, when I am done I take a warm cotton gown that I found on the bed and I put it on. I lay on the bed on my back, close my eyes and think of each and everything that happened last night and early this morning.

I think about how I stabbed my uncle and enjoyed each and every moment of it. Surprisingly the thought of it still warms my heart. I think how people who brought me up turned against me, I think of the reason why they turned against me. Well, they never actually turned against me because they have never been on my side. I think of the news that I am a child of rape and that I just produced my own kind; another child of rape.

I feel tears making their way down to my cheeks! I don’t know what to think but I honestly don’t want a child of rape! Just the thought of having a child at this age breaks my heart. I have never had a boyfriend but I am going through what girls with more than one boyfriend go through. My life is hard, it gets harder every day! Even if I want to keep the baby, I can’t. I can’t give the Mali’s such responsibility! Yes they have been nice but I don’t want to take advantage of their kindness! I wish Babalo was here because he’d know what to do. I just miss Balo and the thought of him makes me cry even more! I am young. Why do I have to go through all this? Is it because of who I am? A child of rape? But Lord it’s not my fault, why am I being punished for something I had no control over? Something I was not even a part of! Jesus, please do something; this is not fair, do something please! I cry myself to sleep.

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