Two years is a long and lonely time, filled with long and lonely nights. But I never looked at another woman. Not even in my worst times.

Joy was the only one for me. If I couldn’t have her, then I would just go without. And Joy? Had she found herself another man? Some days, I hoped she had. She deserved to be happy even if I couldn’t make her happy. But other days, the thought of any other man touching her made me feel sick with horror.

At least she was pursuing her career in journalism. I know. I saw her articles published in magazines. Glossy, expensive magazines.

“The stylish Ms Mazibuko was seen at the fund-raiser with a new man. She insists he is only a close friend. How close, Ms Mazibuko? I wonder what Mr Mazibuko will make of this? He is away on a business trip in India, but due back any day. Watch this space for further developments!”

I shook my head. This was not the Joy I remembered! She had never been interested in writing about high society.

“What an empty, pointless subject!” That’s what she used to say about gossip columns. Her writing had never been mean and bitter either. I read her articles and felt my heart break all over again. She had lost that lovely spirit of kindness.

“This is your fault,” I told myself. And went off to photograph fresh mounds of corpses, worrying about light-readings and exposures and lens fittings. Yes, I seemed to have lost my spirit of kindness too.

Then Tshepo emailed: “Joy has a new man in her life. It seems serious. Daniel, dude, you really messed up. Idiot!”

I managed to get a signal and phoned him. “Who is this guy? What’s he like? How serious?”

Tshepo didn’t seem to have much in the way of answers.

Then came Tshepo’s second email: “Daniel, dude, you have finally lost her! She’s getting married this Saturday. Idiot! You’ve only got yourself to blame!”

I phoned again. “I’ll be home in two days. Meet me at the airport, right?”


So here I am on the plane, about to land at Cape Town airport. In a short while, I will see my beloved Joy. And I will explain to her about the sangoma and the flames.

“Forgive me, my angel,” I will say. “I left you to save your life.”

I will beg her to cancel her wedding. Surely she will? After all, we are soulmates. We are destined to be together.

I will say: “Together we can make sure the vision never comes true. Together we are stronger than any fortune-teller. We will become again the people we were meant to be. Kind and good.”

As I step off the plane I am filled with hope and with dread. But mostly with hope.


Tell us what you think: Will Joy cancel her wedding? Or will the vision in the flames come true?