| By ,
on 17-07-2002 05:13
|
Views : 1205  |
Favoured : 63 |
Published in : , Stories |
By Shameeyaa neo waMolefe
Under the unusual cynical thoughts, the poet’s provocative phrase, glaringly stung, to her anxious wounded mind like thorny thorns. For the past two weeks, she’s been trying hard to ignore and remove the surgeon’s knotted results away from her emotional self. Curbed beneath unsettled and unruffled memories, childhood thoughts uncomfortably revisited her. Usually when the *stake gets high*, she will secretly share her sordid tears with Buddha (dog) in the dark prickled house crate.
Handclaps and laughter from the soirée awaked her travelling thoughts. Absently listening to poets on stage, she felt uneasy to continue sitting and excused herself from the crowd. At the café door, a provoking phrase harshly escorted her ears: love your babies before they’re borne”. The poet’s words brutally entered her eardrums like thief’s knife and ignited severe bruises.
Sternly her outspoken words rephrased phobia in his slickly voice. He stuttered. Quavered. Finally said (with his eyes fixed on the door) “Nubian, I am not prepared” and slammed the already broken door. He went outside for a quick smoke, cigarettes were his favorites; they aroused and stroked his hopes thriftlessly. “My livelihood is not yet established” telepathically telling Nubian while murmuring melancholy tunes. Inside Sadique grandmother’s four-room house, cockroaches were dancing to twalatza, the township dance craze, trying to get Nubian’s attention. Noiselessly, she recalled proclaiming to him “I will not be like my mother who was preordained to freely raising her children. The only melee, that will enhance my mothering skills, is to live and experience the life of our children by instilling self-determination to them at a young age. Before we can accomplish this goal, ‘we’ need to demolish secularism in our society and reintroduce utopian doctrine which might increase moral values.” Loneliness attempted to accompany her, but the song interrupted thoroughly: “Knowing you the best part of life, do I have the right to take yours, cause I created you, irresponsibly, subconsciously knowing the act I was a part of, the start of something, Im not ready to bring into the world…turning this womans womb into a tomb, but she and I agree, a seed we dont need, you wouldve been much more than a mouth to feed, but someone, I would fed this information I read, to someone, my life for you I would had to leave, ……but I wasnt prepared mentally nor financially, Having a child shouldnt have to bring out the man in me, plus I wanted you to be raised within a family” (Common Sense).Sadique entered the house like a thief in the night, feeling culpable. They indepthly listened to the fading song with their hands glued to each other.
Silently her stuttering stoned her chances to talk. She tried to break the ice threshed in her throat. Sternly, she said, “Sadique, I don’t want our child, to live the life we both lived. Imagine how unfair this would be for them to know they were unplanned? If an unborn child’s destiny revolves around capitalistic implications for basic survival, then what about her presence? Do without love and God’s given gift for a second although they’re true, wouldn’t it be injustice? Determined communities comes from stable families.” she wiped tears.
Sadique and Nubian met at a political –poetry soirée at the local library near an old Eurocentric monument, whose historical timeline remained unknown to them. It was love at third sight. They couldn’t let off theirs eyes from one another this time. The odyssey talk painted willingness to continue talking and discussing the internalized sociopolitics and cultural affairs, which tricked Sadique’s confession to Nubian’s interest. They oeuvred and swam within unconventional words and that led to frequent visits, sunsets and moon watching rituals. They kissed, curbed and had sex. They unconditionally fell in love. Their personal backgrounds were dealt with, overlooked and being balanced, creating a suitable, natural and free environment for love to independently grow.
Looking in the eyes of the cherished and sculptured mosaic memories, Nubian, tried to avoid the present situation. The children noise on the street disturbed her profound ponderings. He loved and believed in her. She had unsettled past issues, which kept distancing her from him. “How could you believe in me when I didn’t believe in my own self?” She feared to live beyond their love and drift away from one another. He had unbreakable faith and trust that bonded them through their unborn child’s umbilical cord. She denounced to give her child a pauper existence because of the financial implications and social injustices prevailing in this world. “Love your babies before they’re borne” was the perfect poetic phrase she could justify upon and use it to her own advantage.
Nubian was two months pregnant. The unplanned pregnancy was a sad taboo in her mind. Her womb became a rolling stone and rebelled to carry life. Her mind created poisonous reactions, which affected her ovaries and led blood to bleed between her legs. She felt guilty for allowing her thoughts to choose the destiny of their child. The accident enforced them to go see the gynecologist for examination. “Come on Monday.”
“How will I break these news to mama?” She waited for everyone to watch the preferred South Afrikan soapie, (Generations) and requested to speak to her guardian privately. Unknown strength and courage emerged. “Mama, I am a pregnant. Sadique is the father. We went to see a gynecologist for confirmation. On Monday, I am going to see the doctor because I am bleeding and for him to determine the nature of the pregnancy. Mama, ngiyaxolisa.” Nubian’s strings of words fell in her mother’s deaf ears. She was discouraged and disappointed. Nubian was the treasure she had invested her life in. The golden glass is now broken, her reputation was to be ruined. Nubian wanted to further explain in details that she’ll continue studying. She went to sleep. The household and close friends were all surprised and felt betrayed.
His cold hand held her tightly, trying to assure his unrestricted love. The gynecologist reception room was breezing with anxiety. The doctor availed the result “you have an ectopic pregnancy. There are slim chances for the child to survive. We’ll do an operation, today”. The news wobbled in her womb and recluse her mind to loneliness, which led her to solitudeness.
Last update : 17-07-2002 05:13
|
|
|
About MWS 
(0 vote)
