A lot of Christians will tell you how praying is an easy thing when reality is that it is so difficult. I once went
to church and the pastor asked his congregation to stand up and give thanks to the Lord. For an hour people prayed nonstop but with me after 3 minutes I had run out of things to say. I did not know how to pray. For some reason every time I tried or started it gave me a mind block. That was me. Now here I was going down on my knees, a Sangoma initiate asking God for help. I mean could there even be a bigger irony than this. I was living through difficult times and I have never been one who prays when things get tough when I haven’t known God for so long.
“Dear lord please protect our mother in this dark time. Please grant her a speedy recovery….”
My sister and started and it took her about 5 minutes. I guess the longer you talk to God the more your chances are of being heard. I had heard everything she said and the way it came out so smoothly from her showed that she had practised this several times.
“That was a beautiful prayer!”
I told her but she just smiled weakly at me her brow hardening soon after I think as the worry for mom came back. Prayer should have given us hope but I guess it was too soon. Are you not supposed to complement someone’s praying skills?
“We are all going home. No one is sleeping in cars or anything random like that. I am going to mums because I must pack some things for her. Mbuso please take my sister home so she can sober up!”
My sister said. I thought no one had noticed that I had been drinking. I was embarrassed. You know at times as an adult when you the only one drunk you appear immature. I felt like that.
“Ok then but first thing in the morning I will be here!”
I told her as we all walked away. I complain a lot about my mum but I did not want to lose her. I love her so much even when she is annoying.
“You can lie down if you want!”
“No thanks. I don’t want to fall asleep because waking up and then having to walk into my place would be a mission!”
I told him. Don’t you just hate it, when you sleep in the car then you get home and you still have to drag your feet across to go inside and pass out? That was me.
“I would have carried you if you slept but its ok.”
Mbuso said focusing on the road as he drove out. He would have carried me? Wow uhm ok, maybe I should sleep just for that part. Anyway, I did not sleep. I had a lot on my mind in guise of my mother. What if something bad happened to her? Tomorrow was too far in a government hospital. I was so lost I my thoughts I did not even see that we had arrived home, imagine.
“Your mum will be fine, don’t worry!”
He said with a reassuring smiling o his face after he had managed to convince me that we were home.
“I can’t lose her, not now, not ever!”
I told him and the tears just started rolling. Seeing her so helpless like that had put back into reality how fickle this thing called life is.
He said coming to my side of the car and I came out. He pulled me into his arms and he hugged me. On the radio they were playing the song with these words
“I know I am praying for much too much, but could you send, the only man he loved, I know you don’t usually, but dear Lord she is dying…”
Luther Vandros, Dance With My Father. I know it was not relevant to the moment but the way he hugged me, the comfort, the protection the warmth and the care in it made me want to hold on to him forever but I could not. I could not have this moment forever unfortunately.
“I will come check on you in the morning if you allow me.”
He said as though he was asking for permission but I was never going to say no now was I.
I said to him and I walked into my place. All the tears and the emotions of the day just caught up to me. I wanted to bath I remember but I was simply too tired. I sat on the couch and the next thing I had passed out. I had thought I would not sleep but I was wrong, I slept right through the night and woke up embarrassingly late. I checked my phone and it was off. My battery was flat as I had not charged it last night. I immediately put it on the charger. Now I was nervous that they would have tried to look for me in the middle of the night if something had happened. I ran my bath whilst it was getting a bit of battery. When I came back it was at 2% battery and that was good enough for me. I switched it on. I waited. Those were the scariest moments, waited for messages to come in and like clockwork they did. My phone was not on silent so every time a message came in it made that loud beeping sound and at each one of them I lost. I had a voicemail from my sister. I was too scared to open. She had tried to call me funny enough probably ten minutes before I switched off my phone. What do I do now? I was too scared. Then my phone rang, my sister again. Shit! I picked up cautiously.
I asked before she could even say hello.
“Did you listen to my voice message?”
She asked me.
“No I did not but you can tell me now!”
I told her steeling myself.
“I was saying that I think we should take mum to private. I have a bit of money put aside and I think between the two of us we can afford it there!”
She said optimistically.
“Isn’t she is still under your medical cover; we then pay the excess together. I don’t like the conditions here I just feel like there are too many people.
There was a problem though, I could not. By being unemployed it meant that my medical aid went with the contract.
“I just have to find out what’s going on with my medical aid as I quit my job!”
I told her and immediately she asked,
“You did what?”
She was so shocked,
“And you didn’t even bother to tell me, I am your sister Lungile! These are things you should share with me always!”
She said very annoyed and disturbed.
“Please tell me you quit when you already had a new job?”
She added. This was the reason why I had not told her in the first place, the fact that she would judge and then tell me how stupid I was.
“Please the focus is not on me right now it’s on mom! I will explain everything later I just need a few days to process as it is recent!”
When you lose your job you have to look at your finances closely. You can’t just go on a spending spree and yes it is for medical reasons but hospitals can be expensive.
“Call the medical aid!”
She said not impressed with my answer. I guess she was not going to let me off the hook on this one and I guess rightfully so. I had consulted no one to be fair.
I said. I went straight to call Nthabiseng my lawyer to ask her if it was ok to use the medical aid.
“Of course it is, you are still in the pay cycle right so all your other things are still covered. I am sorry about your mom. I will keep her in my prayers!”
She said giving me the best news I needed right now. I was moving my mother to a private facility.
“It’s done, we can move her!”
I told my sister with a bit of satisfaction when I called her back. Somehow she had made me feel like a total screw up. She had hit home hey and I don’t know how she really had gotten under my skin with her reaction.
“Ok then let’s make the arrangements. Send me the medical aid number and I will talk to them to arrange an ambulance for us! You stay at home and please brush your teeth this time last night you smelled like a beer hall!”
She said before she hung up! Ouch! That was not expected. That was unnecessary but my sister can be mean when she wants to. I called her back but not to shout.
“Wait! You didn’t tell me how is mum?”
I asked her.
“If you had wanted to know you would have been here first thing in the morning. Its 10am Lungile, 10am the morning after your mother was admitted and you switch off your phone and don’t even show up at the hospital? Really Lungi! I know you and mum have your issues but I expected better!”
She said angrily.
‘It’s not like that I passed out and…”
I tried to explain!
“No don’t! If it was not because you have the medical aid I swear I would not have called! ‘Tsek!”
She said and again she hung up. It was in this state that there was a knock on the door.
“Who is it?”
I asked from the inside.
“Police madam. We are looking for Miss Lungile Mbatha!”
Looking for me. Why would the police want me?
I opened the door.
“Are you Lungile Mbatha?”
He said looking at a picture.
I replied a bit confused. Why did he have my picture?
“What’s this about?”
I asked him.
“You are under arrest…”
He said taking a step towards me,
I questioned him stepping back. What the hell was going on?
Michael Nkululeko Maphoto (fb)
Thank you for reading. Hope you are feeling better. You gave us all quite a scare. Please next time when you have problems, tell us, your readers, we like family we will help where we can.
Well my story starts when I was 16. I was raped by my uncle, my mother’s brother when I was living with him as his house was closer to school. I am 25 now. He was not responsible for my fees or anything like that it’s just that his house was convenient. After that I told my mother and she went to report him. He was arrested and got killed in prison. The whole family turned against my mother and it’s a very tight knit family meaning the isolation affected her. She was defending her daughter but to everyone I had made this up or this could have been handled within the family. My grandparents exiled my mother out of the family and even when they both died she was almost not allowed at the funeral. She has worked hard to try mending bridges but it’s not working. My uncle was the only boy in her family and she has two other sisters. Right now my mother is sick and the doctors say she might not have long to live. She keeps asking to see her sisters and I don’t even know how to approach them. She says she wants to make peace before she dies. Both of them are very stubborn and proud. I am an only child. Can anyone please advise me on how to approach them? I have not spoken to them in almost 6 years now.