Sandiswa

My mom is coming to pick us up; they say we can go home, Buhle and I. I’m relieved that he’s okay – he was quite sick and it scared me. I would die if I lost him. I cried last night when I talked to the sister. She says sometimes it happens, babies get sick. It’s part of life.

“You can’t protect them from everything. You can just be the best mother you can be and love them,” she said when she was comforting me.

Anele’s on his way to see us. He called and he sounded worried. He’s changed and he loves his kid and I love watching him with Buhle. I hope he hurries up and arrives before Mama gets here. The last thing I need is to play referee. The nurse is bringing Buhle and I need to get cleaned up. I really need a shower.

*****

Anele

I walk into the hospital and I can’t help but smile. I’m relieved training is over. Visiting Sandi and Buhle has become the highlight of my days. Sandi says I shouldn’t let the guys get to me. They don’t have kids so they don’t understand.

I walk into the ward and I see her with Buhle. She’s talking to the nurse and she looks better, healthier. I walk over to the bed and greet them.
The nurse is nice. She tells me Buhle looks just like me.

My little family. Sandi hands him over to me so I can burp him. I’ve become a pro at this. She’s smiling at me, proud I think. She’s beautiful. He’s so tiny that I worry about breaking him. Then she tells me her mom is coming so my visit is once again cut short.

Leaving them hurts.

*****

Sandiswa

It’s Buhle’s three-week birthday, and he’s so big. But he cries a lot and it frustrates me because half the time I don’t know what he wants. I feed him, change him and play with him but he’s just a cry baby.

“You know you must warm the bottle before the baby wakes up. Now he’s hungry and won’t stop crying.” My mom is on my case again. I can never do anything right.

“I was sleeping Ma. I’m exhausted,” I say, as I put Buhle’s bottle in the microwave (another thing my mother hates).

“Well you should’ve thought about sleep before falling pregnant. Babies need care, Sandiswa.” I hate it when she preaches.

“Well you should’ve been there to talk about sex to prevent me falling pregnant,” I mumble under my breath, but I’m too close to my mom. She spins around and gives me a shocked face.

“Uthini, what did you say, Sandiswa?”

“Nothing, forget it,” I say, dragging my feet past her, and my slippers make that annoying sound against the tiles. This is the one thing she hates the most. She flips.

“Mamela, we didn’t send you to that Model C school for you to get pregnant and be cheeky. I’ll klap you right now if you’re not careful! Do you hear me?”

I walk on and don’t respond to her – the other thing she hates the most.

“Sandiswa! Answer me when I’m talking to you!” Now she’s yelling. She’s going on about how disrespectful I am and how ungrateful and stupid I am to let a boy take away my future. How I manage to get As at school and yet be dumb enough to fall for a player is beyond her comprehension.

For once I’m glad to hear Buhle’s cries; they drown out my mother’s voice. I’m in the room feeding my baby and she’s in the kitchen yelling. This is how things have been since I got pregnant.

I’m glad my little sister isn’t here; she hates it when we fight. Litha is twelve and soon she’ll be a teenager. I think about my little sister and the horrible life she’ll have as a teenager. I’m already a disappointment and it’ll be my fault if she ends up like me…

Now I’m furious. I need to set this woman straight. Mrs Perfect. Buhle’s done feeding and I can’t wait for him to burp so I can go sort my mother out, for Litha’s sake.

“Mama, I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you, but this is also your fault!” She looks at me and laughs; this is my chance to let it out.

“If you would’ve been a mother to me instead of this perfect spectacle for people, then you would’ve seen this coming and prevented it.” I hold my breath and wait for that klap.

“Don’t you dare blame your stupidity on me! I did everything for you, everything! And you just threw it all away.”
Now I’m in tears. It’s all or nothing.

“You gave me everything except mothering. Where were you when I needed to talk about sex, and boys and periods? Where were you when I lost my virginity, when I had my heart broken or when I drank too much, just to please my friends? I’m pregnant because you were never there.” I’m breathing heavily now; I think I’ve gone too far.

“Now for Litha’s sake I hope you change, Mama. Otherwise she’ll rebel and maybe end up worse. You can’t expect us to be perfect. We’re kids growing up. Now I’m sorry I’m such a screw up, and I’m sorry I’m disrespectful, but I want you to know one thing. Next year I’m going back to that Model C school and I’m coming out with my Matric Certificate. Not for you, but for my son!”

I turn around and storm back towards my room. Shit, dad is in the living room and I didn’t see him. I carry on walking without waiting for either of them to speak. I put my baby in his stroller and we go for a walk.

***

Tell us what you think: If parents talked to their kids about sex, drugs and alcohol, would that help reduce teenage pregnancy?