Tuesday

“Hurry hurry … Where’s your blazer! Let me guess – you left it in class again! Morena though.”

I find mom waiting for me at the gate with an umbrella. It’s a stormy afternoon. It’s pouring and the thunder is loud as it ever was, lightning striking left and right, as if God is angry at the world.

Gran and Mom get super paranoid when the weather is like this. We have to turn off all electrical appliances including the TV, radio, tablet, pcs and phones. We’re not allowed to go anywhere near water, even if we get thirsty. The mirrors are covered with towels.

This part of my life has nothing to do with superstitions. It is pure science and Gran submits to these certain laws of science. The very same laws of science we were taught at school. I remember some of the lesson. That when there is lightning do not walk under a tree, or in an open space. Do not touch water because water is a conductor. Something like that. So I can understand why Gran respects lightning, it’s just that she goes a bit overboard.

At school I am not allowed into class because I haven’t got my diary signed. The principal did her rounds today and found me sitting outside. She took my blazer and said I did not deserve it. Mrs Viljoen was quick to call me a naughty boy when I handed in the signed warning letter, but that’s that and I do not feel like talking about school today.

I ask Gran if I can turn the TV on because I want to watch Naruto. She tells me to piss off and to sit still. “Can’t you hear how strong this thunder is!?”

But I’m really bored and I don’t know what to do. I don’t get my phone during the week, only on Fridays. Little bro, Ma and Gran are in Gran’s bedroom, probably listening to one of Gran’s apartheid stories. Or listening to how the Zulus wanted to take over, and how she stabbed one of them with the Okapi in her bra and then licked the blood that remained on the knife. Ew!

I’m not in the mood to talk or to answer any questions about my blazer. I take out our prescribed English book we have to read this year, Love David. Ai, but David is a moegoe, a troubled young man. I bet Gran would succeed in disciplining him. He’d be straight if he was raised by my gran.

There’s a screeching sound in the kitchen, and then a bang. It’s the cupboard, probably just opened. They’re old and sometimes the doors open by themselves. The paper door-stops that we place between the cupboard doors don’t always hold.

“Haaaaai! Morena! I hope you’re not playing with the water! You’ll get struck by lightning,” Gran shouts, jumping to conclusions from her bedroom. She sends bro to check on me and the little devil runs back to Gran and tells her that I was trying to drink water. I’m summoned to the bedroom.

“What’s going on with you MoMo?” Mom asks. “You’re always getting into trouble lately. Disobeying instructions and giving everybody attitude, getting notes in your diary and bringing home warning letters? Is it that stage? Have you reached that stage? Is it the girls?”

My heart beats fast. What if she’s been going through my phone? No, I deleted my chats with Mbali and Gabisile. She’s just digging.

I look up, and I tell her what I think is going on. “It’s the salt Mommy. It’s the salt. Ever since I spilled it my life has changed, I wet the bed, I got kicked out of class … and Gabisile … I mean I even saw on Google. They say spilling salt is bad luck. Gran was right.”

“Who’s Gabisile?” she asks. It had just slipped out.

I dismiss the question and I repeat, “It’s the salt!”

She laughs so hard! “Not you too!”

She looks at Gran before she continues. “You see Ma, you have all your superstitions and crazy beliefs stuck in my son’s head. Now he’ll always blame the salt for his bad behaviour!”

Mom peeps out the window. “I think the rain has stopped. I should probably start cooking before the power goes.”

Little bro runs out. I know he’s running after the remote. As I am about to head out too, Gran calls me.

“Come.” She taps the bed, showing me where to sit. “Come, right next to me.”

I sit next to Gran.

“Gugu,” she says.

“Gugu?” I ask

“Yes Gugu. Sy’s reg.”

“Who’s Gugu and what is she right about?”

“The one who says the salt you spilled brought you all the bad luck.”

I laugh really hard, until my eyes are teary. “No Gran. It’s Google. I Google-d it; I searched it online on the internet.”

She frowns, still confused. “Well the internet is right. I once spilled salt. I was a sceptic like your mother. Thought it was all nonsense when my mother, your great grandmother, warned me. I lost my puppies, all three of them, and then a week later, my father.”

“And all of this happened right after you spilled the salt?”

“Ja. I know what you’re thinking. It wasn’t a coincidence. It could’ve been, but we’ll never know. Sometimes you just have to listen. Anything that can go wrong will go wrong. When an elder says don’t do something, do not do it. Okay?”

“Okay Gran. But now, how do I get rid of the bad luck?”

“Pray about it. I prayed and it worked. Kept my fingers crossed and prayed.”

***

Tell us: Are you getting more convinced about superstitions being true, or less?