“Where am I?” asks Sabelo, he stands up while looking around – he is worried.
He totally doesn’t realise where he is. It’s just white everywhere, and silent – a white silent land. There are no shelters, mountains, and the sea – God’s creation. He is quiet for a moment as he looks around.
“Where am I?” he asks himself again in a low pitched voice, it has begun to scare him to be alone in a place where there are no shelters.
“How did I arrive here?” he asks confused, he’s looking around, trying to remind himself what could have brought him there.
“Where’s Noxolo?” Sabelo’s conversation with his inner self, he swallows his saliva while shaking his head.
“She was lying next to me… yeah, we prayed together,” he nods. “I should be in bed, not here!”
“You are worthy to take the scroll and to break open its seals.
For you were killed, and by your sacrificial death you brought for God people from every tribe, language, nation, and race. You have made them a kingdom of priests to serve our God, and they shall rule on earth…”
Surprisingly, he hears a song of glory, but he clearly can’t hear where the sound of this song is coming from as he doesn’t see anyone there. It’s his first time hearing such a marvelous sound. Somehow, it reminds him of his late mother who passed away two years ago – shushed to sing whenever she was cleaning the house. He stands still, not moving at all – listening to the song.
“The Lamb who was killed is worthy to receive power, wealth, wisdom, and strength, honour, glory, and praise!”
It’s like he is in the middle of the people who are singing for their Lord’s arrival. When he woke up here, he was lying down facing up. While he was standing up – he didn’t realise that he is wearing a white robe.
He doesn’t remember wearing the white robe, and he hasn’t figured
out how he got there.
“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb, be praise and honour, glory and might, forever and ever! …”
He’s listening to the song while looking down at his feet as he’s standing barefooted on the white floor, he uplifts his head and realises that there’s a long queue five metres away from him – ahead of him there’s a white throne but he doesn’t know it.
“What is this queue for?” he asks loudly, hoping that the people in the queue would answer him.
“Follow the others on the queue,” says an old man, he’s standing seven metres away from Sabelo.
This old man is wearing a long white robe that has covered even his feet; it’s like he is standing on the air. He’s light in complexion; his beard is long and black just like Hashim Amla’s beard, the only difference is that Amla takes care of his beard. This old man doesn’t even bother himself with just shaving his beard nicely. In his right hand, he’s carrying a rod. Sabelo walks slowly approaching this old man.
“Our Lord, my God! You are worthy to receive glory, honour, and power. For you created all things and by your will they were given existence and life…”
“Where am I?” Sabelo agitatedly asks the old man, “How did I get here?”
“Just get in the line, your book shall be opened!” the old man says loudly.
“Please… please tell me where I am…” he politely begs the old man, he’s looking at the old man as he’s pointing at the queue.
“I’ve never written any book,” says Sabelo, he’s confused.
“Haven’t you ever heard about Judgement Day?” asks the old man, he’s looking straight in Sabelo’s eyes. “I’m talking about the book of your life. Step in the queue.”
“Judgement Day?” he asks himself in a low pitched voice. “It can’t be… I haven’t died yet… Hayibo!!!What could have killed me?” Sabelo’s conversation with his inner self, he’s looking down as he refuses to steps in the queue.
“No, I’m still alive… oh my god! Does this mean that I’ll never see my son? He’s too young to experience such pain, growing up not knowing the love of his father… I don’t want him to go through what I went through. Life was hard.”
He is shaking his head while looking down, “Usually, when people die, they say their last words and make peace with the people that they’ve hurt – but I didn’t…” Sabelo says in his half-broken voice,
“No! I haven’t died yet. A book of my life will be opened when I’m dead not now. Bom’Khuze, cebisa, Masilakuphepha njenge nyamatane, mbangalulaka,” he praises his ancestors,
“Be with me, don’t leave me.”
***
Tell us: Do you think Sabelo is really dead?