When Nzwaki got home she didn’t know what to do with herself. She needed to clear her mind and not think about Nora. She would give her time. When Nora was ready, she would talk. Nzwaki made herself a cup of tea and sipped it slowly, but her mind could not let go of the issue. Why had Nora said that about Joe? What did she know about Joe? And why must Nzwaki worry about him?

Nora was angry and didn’t know what she was saying, Nzwaki decided as she finished her tea. She needed to keep busy or she would go insane. She got up and started cleaning. She had gone through the whole house in an hour and soon was attending to the clothes. She sorted out Joe’s garments; she’d do the laundry this weekend.

Then in one of Joe’s shirt pockets Nzwaki found a piece of paper. There was a number written on it in neat handwriting. Nzwaki wondered if the number was important. Had Joe perhaps saved it on his phone yet? There was no name on it so Nzwaki couldn’t know. She would have to ask him when he was home.

There was a knock on the door and she went to answer it.

“Molo, Mam’Nzwaki.” It was Nora, smiling over the threshold. Nzwaki nodded and moved aside to let her in. She didn’t like being called Mam’Nzwaki, especially by a colleague. But Nora had said it felt disrespectful addressing her just by her name. Nzwaki had a twenty-four year head start on Nora; she was like a mother to her.

“I’m so sorry about today, I didn’t mean to be rude,” Nora said, looking at Nzwaki as she put the kettle on. She was sitting on the new black leather L-shaped sofa Joe had recently bought, playing with an orange scatter cushion. Nzwaki brought the tray to the coffee table and sat facing Nora.

“Mkhize and I…” Nora said after a while, then stopped, unable to finish the sentence. The two had never spoken about personal stuff before and now here was this young woman about to tell Nzwaki about her love life.

“We were seeing each other. We had decided to keep it quiet because … well, people love to talk.”

Nzwaki nodded. She noted that Nora was speaking of the past. So it must be true.

“You must have heard the rumours by now – about Mkhize and I? About me?”

“Well,” Nzwaki sipped her tea, “I know a thing or two about rumours. One is to never believe everything I hear.” Nzwaki wanted to give Nora all the time she needed to tell her side of the story.

“We were together. We talked of children and growing old together, Ma. But then he just…” Nora’s hands were starting to shake and Nzwaki felt there was much more to this.

“It’s alright child, you can talk to me,” she said softly.

“We were having dinner on Tuesday night and I wanted to talk to him. We’ve been seeing each other for two months now and … and … things were getting serious.” Nora paused and Nzwaki allowed the silence to stretch. “I asked him to put on a condom, but he said, ‘Why? If we’re going to get married and have kids then I shouldn’t wear a condom’.”

Nora’s pale cheeks were turning redder with every word. Nzwaki also felt a bit flushed; this awkward talk of Mkhize and Nora and condoms – not what she had expected.

“Did he hurt you?” Nzwaki asked, putting her cup down.

“No, no. He would never lay a hand on me. He was just angry and shocked I guess,” Nora said, her eyes closed. “I understand. He’s a widower and has not been with many women since his wife’s passing. But I thought he would understand and was … ready to know.”

Nzwaki wanted to ask, “Know what?” But she knew the answer would come in moments.

“I’m HIV positive. And I told Mkhize and he freaked out. Started calling me names and said he would tell the whole village to stay clear of me.” Now tears were stroking those pink cheeks.

Nzwaki got up and went to the bedroom. She came back, sat next to the young woman and handed her some tissues. She draped her arm around Nora but she still didn’t speak. She didn’t know enough about the virus to say anything. The wrong words could make things worse and now she needed exactly the right words.

“Are you taking medication?” Nzwaki asked gently. Nora nodded. “Then don’t cry. What matters the most is your health. Mkhize was shocked and probably didn’t know much about this, like me. But he’ll come around. He’s a wise and logical man. He just needs time and information, that’s all.”

Nzwaki could feel Nora’s shoulders beginning to relax. She hadn’t said much but it seemed to work. People just needed hope and assurance that all will be well, regardless of their situation. Nzwaki knew this from all the years of dealing with teenagers and their problems, and their parents.

“So where were you the rest of the week and weekend?” Nzwaki asked, handing her a refill.

“At home,” Nora smiled. “I couldn’t face anybody knowing. The looks, the talking behind your back. I needed some time.”

Nzwaki nodded. She couldn’t understand what Nora was going through but she could sympathise. Nora was a young woman, new to their community and hadn’t made many friends yet; that alone must’ve been hard.

“You could take leave you know. After what happened in your class today, I’m sure Mr Manene would understand,” Nzwaki said and Nora shook her head.

“I need to work.”

“Oh, so you’re not dead,” Joe said as he walked in. Nzwaki could detect the annoyance in her husband’s tone. Hopefully Nora didn’t.

“You should know better than to believe rumours in this village,” Nzwaki said, clearing the tray.

Joe mumbled a reply and went to the bedroom. Nora got up to take her leave. “I must go to Tsolongo tomorrow and collect my pills from the clinic there,” she said.

“Why so far?” Nzwaki asked, walking her to the door.

“They don’t have enough pills in the clinic here for a month. They only give a week’s supply. I can’t keep missing school every week to get more. So I am hoping at Tsolongo they can give me a month’s worth.”

Nora said her goodbyes and was on her way.

Later, as Nzwaki was preparing dinner she talked about her day, hoping Joe would join in. She mentioned the number that she found in his shirt and asked if it was important but she got no answer. She thought of Nora and how the clinic couldn’t give her enough ARVs for a month. She hated to see her in distress.

“Joe, can’t you do something about the pills at the clinic? A friend at work is going there the whole day to wait for one week’s supply because there isn’t enough for a month. Her teaching is suffering. What is happening to the supply?”

“What do you want me to do? I’m only an Administrator.”

“I don’t know. Can’t you order more pill–” Nzwaki didn’t finish her sentence.

“Why are you digging for things that don’t concern you? You go through my things, you are nosy about my work. What do you know about working at the clinic? Do you know what I do and the pressures I have? Aren’t you happy, Nonzwakazi? Huh? And I keep telling you to mind your own business. If that woman didn’t want to deal with the short supply of ARVs then she should’ve thought twice before getting herself infected!”

Joe slammed the door and the glasses in the cupboard shook. Nzwaki too jumped at the loud bang. What had gotten into Joe? Why would he say all those nasty things? Surely he didn’t mean them?

Nzwaki felt bad about what he had said about Nora. Nobody gets themselves infected on purpose. Joe should know that, she thought.

***

Tell us what you think: Do many people think the same way about HIV-positive people as Joe?