“May his soul rest in peace. Amen.”

Themba threw soil onto the coffin and then handed the spade to his uncle. He didn’t wait for his mother before turning around to walk to the taxi that was taking the family home. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked a stone along the dusty ground with his shiny black shoes. Around him, the crowd began to hum as they made their way to the bus.

Once he got home he went straight to his room and slammed his bedroom door loudly. He flopped onto his bed, covering his head with a pillow to keep out the noise of the world.

“Themba, are you there?” He heard his mother at the door.

“I don’t want to talk. Go Ma. Just g … just go away.”

“Please, Themba. Please ngane yami.” She gently opened the door and sat beside him on the bed. “Oh, ngane yami, ngane yaaami,” she said quietly, and bent over to hug him. Themba said nothing. He felt angry with her, even though he knew it was unfair. None of this was her fault.

She stood up. “They need you outside,” she said. “Uncle wants to talk to you.”

Themba sighed. Uncle Moses always wanted to say something. He was his mother’s older brother but acted like he was Themba’s father, telling him what to do all the time. “OK,” mumbled Themba, “in five minutes.” He picked up his book and paged through. But he couldn’t concentrate. He sighed, put the book down and stood up. His soccer ball was in the corner of the room. All he wanted to do was to grab it and run off to the field to find a few guys to play with. He kicked it hard against the wall as he walked out.

He found his uncle standing by the fire with the rest of the men. Themba usually had fun at the After-tears, but this time it was different. He wanted everyone to just go home and leave him alone.

“My son,” Uncle Moses began, and put his arm around Themba’s shoulders.

Themba could smell the liquor on his uncle’s breath. I am not your son, he thought.

“My son, you are now the eldest of your generation of youngsters in the family.”

I’m the only one, thought Themba, but he said nothing.

Uncle Moses went on. “You are the heir to the Ngoma name, the eldest son of the eldest son. You carry the flame of the Ngoma name.” He paused. “Will you make us proud, my son?”

“Yes, Baba.” Themba gritted his teeth as his uncle carried on about growing up and being a man. He barely listened, watching his brother’s friends unpack cases of beer and brandy from the boot of Simon’s car. They were real men, Joseph’s friends. They could drink and drink and never vomit. They had beautiful girlfriends and jobs. Some of them even had their own cars.

His uncle’s arm was hot on his back – it was scorching in Joburg today, almost 40 degrees. His uncle’s voice was drilling into his ears. He had to get away. He mumbled something about helping his mother and went over to the drinks.

“Hey, Si, can I have a drink?” he asked his brother’s best friend.

“What will Ma say?”

“It’s fine, it’s After-tears mos. Pour me a strong one.” Simon mixed three fingers of brandy with four fingers of Coke.

“That strong enough for you, bhuti?” Themba nodded, took a big sip and almost choked.

Simon laughed, “Here, I’ll give you a bit more Coke, OK? Vithiza mfethu, no vomiting at Joseph’s After-tears!”

At the mention of Joseph, they both froze, staring at each other. Simon had been Joseph’s best friend, and Themba Joseph’s best brother, his only brother.

“Come here,” said Simon, and gave Themba a big man-hug. Themba did not want to cry, especially in front of Simon, but it was hard. He pushed him away and took another gulp of his drink. “Joseph was always so proud of you, you know. He really loved you,” said Simon. Themba felt the tears behind his eyes and pulled away.

“I hear you’re going to Cape Town,” said Simon as he poured himself a drink. Themba nodded. He didn’t want to think about it. But his mother had decided. She had this old friend from high school, Auntie Babs, who had moved to Cape Town many years ago. They had been in touch recently, and then when Joseph … went … Themba shuddered as he thought of it … Babs convinced Themba’s mom that a new start would help her recover, and give her new opportunities. She wanted a new start, but Themba didn’t. He couldn’t wait till he had finished school and could do whatever he wanted. He would move back right away; as soon as he held that matric certificate in his hands, he would be out of there so fast, and back here with Si and his own friends. He would get a job, be a real man.

What made everything worse is that his best friends were on holiday together in Durban. Themba was supposed to go with them, but Joseph ruined that by dying. He was so angry! Why did this have to happen to him – to Joseph! Joseph ruined everything! Themba wanted to punch something; he wanted a fight. He took another swig of his drink and walked into the house.

The living room was full of candles. Women were trying to talk quietly – and failing. “They say he was driving a Z3 …”

“No … really? Well, he went out with my Nina only last year, and she says she can smell OMO from a mile away …”

They spotted Themba, and quickly stopped talking. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” said one of them standing up.

“Thank you,” muttered Themba, walking on, angry that Joseph was the subject of rumour, and angry at these two-faced women. They didn’t care, they weren’t sorry. He could hear crying from the main bedroom, where Joseph’s body had lain in the coffin that Themba had helped choose. A fat old lady sat on the bed covered in a blanket, rocking back and forth, wailing with a sharp, shrill voice. He didn’t even know who she was, and he bet she didn’t know Joseph either. There was always someone spoiling a funeral and After-tears, Themba thought. He wobbled on his feet, and he knew it was the brandy and Coke. He drank again, deeply, finishing the glass. “That’s it,” he said to himself, walking back outside. “I don’t care any more. I don’t care about my mother who doesn’t care about what I want, I don’t care about my dead brother who’s just left me alone … Hey, Simon, pour me another one!” he shouted across the yard.

***

Tell us what you think: Themba is trying to deal with the grief of losing his brother. What ways do people try to cope with the loss of a loved one? What do you think is the most healing way of dealing with grief?