We normally met there, Nozibele my best friend and I, at Wynberg Park, a serene place. We met to catch up and share life stories. This was where we’d forget about the world’s worries. There was a burning issue sitting in the depths of my heart I wished to tell her. I had sent a text to tell her we should meet.
Nozi mntase uphi? Nantsi indaba inditya mntase endifuna ukuxelela yona. (Where are you my friend I have something to tell you?)
She texted back:
Owk chommie let’s meet in our paradise. I am willing to listen to you and offer you my support and undivided attention.
Hearing her say that soothed my heart. I had been feeling lonely these days. Every now and then people somehow came into my life, but they left me emptier than I was before. It’s like I kept depositing a part of myself that I could never get back.
As I was bathing, preparing to meet with my friend, I heard a sound coming from my neighbour’s house, kukhala uRingo ingoma ethi Vuka Sula (Ringo’s song, Vuka Sula, was playing). It was as if this song was speaking to me, it said you should stop giving what you don’t have. I had seriously asked myself how many times had I poured my life and my heart out in vain.
Tears started dripping from my face, the song hit home. I felt overwhelmed with big disappointment when I considered how much I had changed. I was doing things I would never imagine I would do. My choices were drifting from that value orientated girl I used to be.
Every now and then I would look at the mirror. I didn’t feel like I loved what I am. And who are you? I would often ask myself. Sometimes I was shocked. Who the hell had I become?
Nozi sent an SMS:
How far are you my love?
I am on my way munchie.
I quickly fixed my hair and got dressed, took my purse from the wardrobe, put on my make-up and was ready to go. I caught a taxi.
“Xolo bhuti iya eWynberg le taxi?” (Sorry driver, is this taxi going to Wynberg?) I asked.
“Ewe sisi iya khona,” (Yes, it’s going there) the driver said.
I got in and found a soft spot at the back. While in the taxi Nozi sent a whatsapp message:
I am in a taxi to Wynberg chummy.
Owk nam ndikuyo, (I’m in a taxi now as well) see you there.
The taxi cruised through different areas until we got to our destination. I got out of the taxi and started marching through the road next to the mall. I first went to the super market to buy garlic bread and juice for two.
This walk, since I was alone, felt like I had walked forever. Phew! I found my friend waiting for me, sitting next to a bench close to the dam.
“Hi chommie,” I greeted her.
“Hello sweetheart,” she said. “Well hlala phantsi (sit down) and tell me what is eating you?”
I don’t know what happened, ndabona ngenyembezi zisihla (tears started streaming from my eyes).
“Hayi maan chommie, yintoni ngoku (what’s wrong my friend?)” She asked.
“Chommie I messed up big time. I keep investing in people who don’t care about me but care about themselves.”
“Haibo, why do you say that, Nana?” She asked.
“Firstly, I was with someone who told me that they could be with me but not in this world,” I said. “But the strange part is while they say they can’t be with me, every now and then they sleep with me.” It took courage to say that.
“Oh amadoda zizinja kodwa (men are dogs) chommie!” she said furiously.
“As if that’s enough, omnye wathi yena (the other one said), “You and I are good friends but what we are doing here feels good.” I felt used kakhulu chommie,” I said. “Kaloku I ended up sleeping with him, thinking that he would be with me for real this time.”
“Hayi maan, where did you meet these kind of people?” she asked.
“Desperation chommie yaz,” I said.
“Shame man,” she said concerned.
“As if that’s not enough chommie, two more requested my nudes and I gave them to them. I felt so sick, I was disgusted with myself afterwards.”
“Hayi yima Thandiswa, you did not ask to be treated this way. It’s those pigs who do not know how to treat a woman better, and they do not know what is in front of them,” she said. “Kodwa chommie stop selling yourself short.”
“Nozi, ndithini xa ndifuna ukuthandwa (what should I do if I want to be loved) chommie?” I asked.
“Ububhanxa bothandwa (nonsense of wanting to be loved) if you’re going to keep putting yourself in positions of getting hurt, Thandiswa.” She said concerned. “You better decide what kind of woman you want to be. You don’t deserve all of this, you don’t need this, dust yourself and develop yourself.”
“Oh, chommie you don’t know how much this means to me.” I said gratefully. “Talking to you helped.”
“It’s a pleasure, Nono, remember uyathandwa (you are loved),” she said.
Those words tasted like honey. After the hearty convo, we had the food I bought from the super market and later took selfies, it felt therapeutic. We both walked together to catch a taxi back to our respective homes. Luckily the taxi was short of two people and it took off after we had entered.
Later, before I went to sleep, her words rang in my head: “You better decide what kind of woman you want to be.”
That’s when I knew I would never be the same again.
Tell us: Have you ever felt desperate for love?