3 years ago

I rushed to my parents’ bedroom. Today was an exciting day not because it was a Friday, my favourite day in the whole wide world but because today it is May 28th my parents’ anniversary. There is something about watching your parents get dressed and going out on their special night that just warms one’s heart.

My mother’s smile was so big and bright that it warmed my heart. Someday I wish I can find such love that is so rich and warm. My mother twirled around “And how do I look?”

“Beautiful.” Indeed she was, she is really beautiful in her fiery red dress and full-on make up, it is rare to see my mother with make up on and today was one of those rare days. “We are going to be late.” My father shouted from downstairs. My mother rolled her eyes, “Your father is so impatient I’m telling you.”

We walked down the stairs together and my father’s eyes lit like he was seeing his wife for the first time, their love is special, they have that type of love many wish to have.

“Wow.” My father said in astonishment as he took her hand helping her down the stairs and gave her a single rose that he was hiding behind his back. “You guys are disgustingly cute,” I said as they walked out the door.

Not even 2 hours had passed and I was already in my pajamas eating snacks watching a movie when a knock disturbed me. I lazily opened the door.

“Are you Nandipha?” The guy at the door asked.

“Who is asking?”

“Detective James from Tembisa police station. I am sorry to tell you that your parents have been involved in a terrible accident and unfortunately they didn’t make it.”

My knees buckled. I don’t know when I started screaming or how I was now on the floor shaking my head no. Not my parents, it can never be.

Present day

I dragged my perfectly rolled joint and laid back on the couch and passed it on to my friend. There was something about crystal meth mixed with weed that just hit the spot.

I closed my eyes and smiled, I was now happy and free. I opened my eyes and looked around the room, it was a different room than the one I am used to but it doesn’t matter, as long as I get my stuff I am good.

If I ever went to a therapist he would have told me that I am not dealing with the pain and that drugs are not a solution, but how when they ease the pain.

I never thought that I would have been so deep into drugs like this but after my parents’ death I lost myself, it was hard for me to even get up most mornings at some point I thought about ending it all but when I failed to do that I handed myself into drugs and they sure do make me feel like everything is going to be better.

I can’t remember the last time I cried or even went to the graveyard to visit them, not because most of the time I feel like I have disappointed them but because I feel like I failed them.

I was never supposed to get into drugs, I was not supposed to drop out in my last year of high school and let myself deteriorate into nothingness and be a junkie, right now I am supposed to be at UFS doing my second year but I am not.

I turn to look at my friend ready for her to pass me the joint but her head is slightly rolled to the side. If I didn’t know better I would have said that she was sleeping if it was not for the foam that was coming out of her mouth and nose. “Rethabile,” I said shaking her, I have heard of so many stories of people dying from an overdose but I never thought it would happen to one of my close friends.

I searched for the phone around the messy table; with my shaky hands I dialled the ambulance number.

She was pronounced dead. Now I know of three people who have died and it is not a good feeling.

Everything was going so fast, I was now outside sitting at the stairs as I watched the paramedics taking her with a stretcher. I was hugging my knees when one of the paramedics came with a warm smile on her face, kind of reminding me of my mother.

“My name is Cynthia,” she said sitting next to me.

“Nandipha.”

She looks at me and takes a deep breath. “I am sorry about your friend.”

I nod not looking at her. “You know if you don’t stop you will end up like her,” she said as she placed her hand on my back “My little brother died just like your friend and I don’t want you to end up dead. If I offered to help you would you allow me?” I looked at her and saw the sincerity in her eyes accompanied by a little bit of sadness, I nodded. She smiled and helped me get up from the concrete stairs.

It has been two long weeks and I found the courage to visit my parents’ tombstone. I don’t remember the last time I cried over my parents. I have been bottling all my feelings inside and now all I do is cry a river as I tell them about Cynthia the woman who helped me when I was at my lowest and how she made me go to rehab, made me go see a therapist and helped me get on my feet with a little job at Makro’s warehouse and all she had to do was give me a second chance.

“I am okay,” I said as I wiped my tears from my face “I am okay,” I said again as I stood up, I was now free, I have never felt this light in my entire life. For the first time in many years I can now smile.

“And how do you feel?” Cynthia asked as I got inside the car

“Pretty good.”

She nodded with a little smile on her face as she started driving.

This story was written as part of the Fundza Fellowship programme.