After three months my uncle was able to return to work and no longer needed my financial support. The violence had cooled down since the police had made arrests and held community meetings. Several prominent members of the community and church leaders had also spoken out in defence of the Somalis, and made it clear that they would not tolerate xenophobic attacks.

Six months later I was able to pay Ali the last instalment for the bakkie. At last I was able to put money aside for studies. I applied for a Business course at ARESTA and I was overjoyed when they called me to confirm my acceptance. It was not far to travel each day, and I would still be able to work at my shop after classes. Faisal had assured me that he could manage by himself in the mornings.

On my first day at ARESTA I was running late and struggled to find the classroom. I turned a corner in the corridor, and bumped straight into Natasha! She looked as surprised as I did.

“Abdul, it’s you! I didn’t know you attended classes here?” she said.

“I’ve just started,” I replied, hoping that she hadn’t noticed how excited I was to see her. At last she would get to know another side of me. I would no longer be just her friendly local shopkeeper.

“That is great. What are you studying?” she asked.

“Just a short course in Business, to help me with the running of my shop,” I said.

“It’s a good course,” she replied.

“What do you do here?” I asked. “I remember you telling me you had finished your law degree.”

“I’m working part-time in the Admin office, because I haven’t found Articles with a law firm yet,” she explained.

I did not really understand what she meant. I thought that when you finished a degree like hers you immediately got a well-paid job. But I just nodded and pretended that I had understood her clearly.

Suddenly I remembered that I was late for class and didn’t even know where I was supposed to be.

“It’s good to see you, Natasha. I’m sorry we can’t talk for longer. I need to get to my first lecture. Do you mind telling me how to find the classroom?”

She kindly offered to walk with me to my class and I relished the extra few minutes in her company.

“Here it is,” she said, pointing at the closed door in front of us.

I hesitated before saying goodbye. I felt like I was about to lose her again.

She added, “You can ask me anything anytime. I am just down the corridor in the administration office.”

“Thanks, Natasha. I appreciate that,” I said with a smile.

*****

At least once a week I would find a reason to ask Natasha for advice. Her face seemed to light up whenever I walked into her office. It seemed that she genuinely cared about me. It didn’t matter to me now what Uncle had said about finding a Somali wife. Once he got to know Natasha he would not think of any other girl for me.

I was standing outside after lectures one day, trying to pluck up the courage to invite Natasha out for coffee, when I got a cell phone message from my uncle.

Please come for lunch. There is something important we need to discuss.

I was tempted to make an excuse, but I felt bad after all Uncle had been through. So I responded.

See you around 1 pm

When I got to the house, Uncle Hassan looked very serious. “Abdulrahman, remember I told you that it was time you took a Somali wife?” he said.

I nodded, trying to disguise my anxiety about what he was going to say next.

“Well, Mana’s cousin has found you a suitable girl from Somalia. You just need to pay so that we can organise a way to get her to Cape Town. She is a very nice girl, Abdul, a proper Somali girl with good values. I have spoken to her parents and her family has agreed that she can marry you. According to our custom the marriage will take place in Somalia. My brother Abshir will stand in for you on the day of your wedding.”

He handed me a cup of tea. I took a big sip and burned my lips – but the sting in my lips was nothing compared to the shock that ran through my whole body after hearing Uncle’s words. I knew that in Somalia it was very common for families to arrange marriages, but I never thought that this would happen to me. And to add to my problems, it was now my duty to pay to get her to South Africa!

I sat in silence for several minutes. I could not move or even hear what my uncle was saying. All I kept thinking was Natasha … Natasha … Natasha. I was about to shout her name out aloud when Uncle tapped me on my knees. I guess he had noticed that I had stopped listening to him.

“How … Who … What is her name?” was all that came out of my mouth. I could not believe that he expected me to marry a stranger.

“Her name is Zainab. She is very beautiful and I know that you will like her very much,” he said enthusiastically.

“Zainab?” I said, still in shock.

“Yes, isn’t that a beautiful name? She will be arriving in two weeks, so you need to prepare yourself. I have asked Salim to rent you his second house in Retreat, because you can’t bring a wife into your small bachelor room.”

Uncle kept talking about this stranger, Zainab, as if he expected me to share his happiness. I did not know how to tell him that an arranged marriage was a terrible prospect for me. And how could I now invite Natasha for coffee knowing that my wife was soon to arrive from Somalia? Zainab was sure to be very conservative in her ways, and it would be difficult for me to pursue my education. Before long the families would expect us to have children!

In the days that followed Aunt Mana and her friends started to prepare a feast to welcome Zainab and to also to announce our marriage to the community. I had to help pay for this party, so I had to work longer hours in the shop and couldn’t attend all my classes at ARESTA. Somehow, though, I did manage to submit my assignments when they were due.

I felt like my quest for freedom had turned into a death sentence I could not escape. All I wanted was to be happy. But if this is what Allah wanted for me, then I would much rather have stayed in Somalia with my grandmother.

Every night for the next week I dreamed either that Zainab had forgotten her passport and was sent back home when the bus reached the border, or that that the conversation with my uncle ended with me announcing my engagement to Natasha. But the day before Zainab’s arrival, when Salim sent me a message that he was going to pick her up from the bus station, it was all too clear that I was now a married man.

“Don’t worry – she will be a good wife,” my friend Ali assured me, but I could see that he sympathised with my situation.

All I had to go on was a photograph Uncle Hassan had shown me. Zainab looked nothing like Natasha. She did not have the same beautiful long black hair, nor did she have Natasha’s gorgeous big eyes. I decided to tell Uncle that I had found a more suitable match and that he must send Zainab straight back. This was not the time to behave like a coward, and to allow others to ruin my life, I thought to myself.

Early on Friday morning I climbed into my car and drove straight to my uncle’s house, hoping that I could speak to him in private as he left for the shop after his morning prayers. I did not expect anyone else in the house to be up, because I had understood that Zainab was arriving with Salim at only around 8 am.

I parked outside and waited for Uncle to open the door. The door opened, but instead of my uncle, out came a young woman wearing her hijab and a beautiful red-and-white dress. She was slender and tall, with a beautiful brown skin. When Aunt Mana called out for her to wait, she smiled and her eyes shone and her teeth were pearl-white between her lovely, full lips.

Zainab! I had never imagined that she might be pretty. What now? I left in a hurry before anyone could see me.

***

Tell us what you think: what would you do if you were Abdul?