Later in the afternoon Dubula came back. He was not drunk, but it was clear that he had been celebrating. He said to his mother that he needed to go to bed. I had been kept in the main house where old ladies took turns to talk about things that made no sense to me, like what it meant to be a good wife. Where was the sense in that at my age?

Now, with his rough hands he pulled me to the rondavel I had met him in. Everything that was to follow was to be rough.

He was not making love to me. He was stamping his authority on me. He was rushing, where to I did not know. My parents had not come around. He had me. I was tearing inside.

It was not painful, but quick, like rape sessions done in the bush. Like what I thought the men that kidnapped me would do. It was me and him in the dark rondavel. He did as he pleased with me.

Before he fell asleep he mumbled words about boy children. He wanted to make children with me as soon as possible.

I felt trapped. I was not on contraception pills or the injection. Right there and then I knew I would abort the baby if I fell pregnant with Dubula’s child.

When he mentioned children I was reminded of Luthando in Cape Town and his dream to have three children. But even that thought had forced itself into my mind. I did not like him either and could not wait for the moment I would be in Bhekifa’s arms again.

Nothing about what would make me happy was said here. What about my dreams? I cried silently as I asked myself endless questions.

Bhekifa would be devastated when he heard this. How would he hear of it though? Would it be from me when I broke free from here, or, from my family at my funeral? I still had hope knowing that my parents would somehow come and set me free.

I did not fall asleep when Dubula did. I cried and cried quietly, keeping my sobs below his loud snoring.

I had ideas of escaping. I wanted to boil a kettle and pour the boiling water on his chest while he slept. The pain he had caused was still worse than what he would feel!

I thought again, he was much older and stronger than me. I gave up on the idea of burning him with hot water. I thought how he would beat me. I did not think my body could take much more. It was already painful, inside and out.

The moon shone a ray of light through the crack in the wooden window of the rondavel. I looked outside and wondered which way I would run. The men had driven a long way with me in the car. But I had to find a way. I told myself that my parents must be working on something. There must be a search out for me. I would be found soon.

Carefully, in the middle of the night, I slowly lifted the blankets. Dubula turned on to his side. I froze. When I saw that he was still fast asleep, I slowly got out of the bed.

“Nokhanyo, awulelanga, are you not asleep?” I heard him ask. I thought he was dreaming about someone else. But then I remembered that this was my new name. Before I could answer he was already reaching for me.

“Yima ndiyochama, wait I am going to pee in the pail,” I said. He did not hear this and pulled me by my arm. Again he was on top of me, breathing heavily.

Afterwards he fell asleep beside me. I felt dizzy. It felt like a part of me was drifting away. I sat up on the bed. The dizziness slowly went away. What was left was a pain that had its own beat, a different beat to the rhythm of my heart. It started in my womanhood and went up inside of me.

I sat and thought about my mother. I thought about anything I could have done differently. I thought of how all of this could be my fault. Angel would have serious questions for me. Bhekifa might blame me and say I knew. He must have been phoning, trying to reach me, by now.

Dubula had woken again and was staring at me.

“Buti ndiyaf…” I began but before I could finish telling him that I was at school Dubula interrupted me.

“Call me Dubula,” he said.

Again I tried: “Dubula, I am still at school. Will I be allowed to at least finish school?” School was not my biggest worry, but I needed to escape and had been thinking of how I could do that. It was still long before schools would reopen again. I needed to break free soon.

He said yes but told me I would just need to make sure that I didn’t walk around the village in school uniform. “The rest of the rules my mother and aunts will tell you. I think there are fines if you don’t dress properly,” he said.

I woke up in the morning not knowing when I had fallen asleep. Sleep must have stolen me during some hour before or after midnight. The last thing I remember asking him in the dark was if he had a girlfriend. In an irritated voice he told me to shut up and that the question was not relevant as he had a wife now, in me, Nokhanyo. I swallowed spit and my eyes filled with tears. This is the time I must have fallen asleep.

When I got out of the rondavel in the morning, the lady said to be my mother-in-law had a beaming smile. One of those ‘I have achieved’ smiles.

“Wipe that smile off your ugly face, stupid woman,” I quietly mumbled, too softly for her to hear.

I had to wake everybody else up and give them lukewarm water to wash their hands and rinse their mouths. After that I had to serve everybody in the homestead coffee. I had already started a pot of mielie meal porridge, egoqweni, in the outside cooking place. More work was waiting for me. As I did these early-morning chores I kept dropping things. All I could think of was how I could get away from there.

***

Tell us what you think: What’s your opinion of what Dubula is doing?