My getting married to Brother Chumile meant my father would rise in his status in the church. I was to be Lady Bishop who would give birth to the sons that would take over from their father and become bishops.

Years and years ago the Hebrew congregation was formed by a Magadla. Now it was lead by the Magadla family from generation to generation. They were exchanging the position of the bishop like the royals passing down kingship.

Now this heritage was in Brother Chumile’s hands. That is why my father did not fight when the Bishop came to him with this dream. My father knew that his name would be in the church history books because of his daughter being married to a bishop.

The following morning we prepared to go back home to Butterworth. I couldn’t wait to leave the Bishop’s house. My father and the Bishop promised each other that they would next meet on the day that would be filled with blessings from above: the day I tied the knot with Brother Chumile.

They never suspected that I had made my own vow: never to marry him. I wished Chumile would die.

When we were getting into the car Brother Chumile held me back. He wanted to talk to me alone. Without me saying anything, he hugged me, and he said, “May the Lord keep you until the day of the wedding.”

“But when do we get married?” I asked.

“Very soon.”

“When, Brother Chumile?”

“In the middle of December.”

I was left with only five months of freedom until I became Brother Chumile’s wife.

We travelled home without saying a word. When we arrived I closed the door to my room and cried. I had to tell Thobekile my parents’ plan. We could run away together.

When I thought everybody was asleep, I crept through my window and through the gate and left it unlocked, as before. Thobekile’s house was lit up with lamps. I knew he was there. I knocked and he opened immediately as if he were waiting for me.

“Nono,” he said hugging me.

“Were you still awake?” I asked.

“Yes, I was studying. I am in the last stage of being evaluated for a scholarship to a college in England next year,” he answered. “I want to be a doctor one day, Nono. I will come back and work in a hospital here. We’ll live in a lovely house together…”

But all I could hear was the word ‘England’. It was so far away. He would never come back to this small place to find a small town church girl.

“You’re leaving?” I felt like there were stones in my stomach.

“Father Bernard at Saint Francis’ mission is sponsoring me. He has arranged with his mother church in England for one child to go to school there. It could be me, if I can pass the test. The opportunity will never come again.”

“You will pass,” I said softly. Then, even more softly, “There is something I need to tell you.”

“What is that?” he asked calmly.

“I am getting married.”

His mouth dropped open. Words had fled. He just stared at me.

I told him everything about Brother Chumile. I told him that I would never love Chumile and that I wished he were dead.

“I don’t know why people believe Father Bishop, as if he was God himself!” I said it with anger. “What are we going to do?”

Thobekile looked at me without saying anything. His eyes were bright as stars, filled with tears that he tried to hold back. When he hugged me I could feel his love.

“We will find a way,” he promised me.

I had never had sex with anyone before. Thobekile was the first for me. I had no experience. I knew one thing: that we didn’t use sex for the wrong reasons. I loved Thobekile, because he was first loved by my spirit. We were spiritually connected. I knew that I had to be with him until the end.

I left Thobekile at about five o’clock in the morning, with him fast asleep. On my way I climbed over fences and tried to avoid barking dogs from certain houses, more so because of the dark.

Approaching my home I noticed that the lights were switched on. Mother and Father were standing outside and the gate was open. I heard Father saying, “Why is the gate not locked MaSithathu?” He said that to my mother, who was walking up and down outside like she was looking for something.

Obviously they have seen that I am not in my bedroom, I thought, my heart pounding. They are coming to look for me.

But then I heard my father call to my mother: “Telephone Tamkhulu and tell him I am on my way to take him to the hospital.”

My grandfather must be ill again, I thought. That is why my father was up at this hour, driving off in such a hurry. I watched my mother rush back into the house, leaving the gate unlocked in her haste.

I had been lucky twice now in returning home unnoticed. Surely this was a sign that our relationship was meant to be?

I waited until my father had driven off, then sneaked in.

***

Tell us what you think: How can Nono still going on seeing Thobekile?