Day 84, Sintu
I made a choice. But I failed Khayone. What I gave him was not enough – two train tickets to another life, but a life exiled from his village.

After the verdict I sent for him to come to Komkhulu. I advised him to leave the village and go to the city. I arranged a place to live for them, and for someone to take care of everything. I was trying to help … but I couldn’t prevent his death.

“I do want Onikwa to have a better life,” Khayone told me.

“You and I are the same,” I said to him. “We are both in love with someone, but our love is impossible. Villagers will curse and exile me too if they know the truth.”

My verdict had taken Khayone’s pride, and exiled him from his place of birth. A man without his pride loses his sense of belonging, his will to live. I can’t help but feel guilt for causing his death. I was so blinded by fear of my secret being found out. Of losing my love. I have to fix this, in some way. I must make it my mission to revive his dignity – even though he’s gone.

His body was discovered three days after his actual death, already decomposing. He was buried on the spot, next to his shack. At night I watched a red glow of flames coming from where his shack was. People burned it as if they were celebrating. It was even hard to have him buried. Nobody wanted to touch his corpse. They believed the curse of nofotyela was still contagious.

Bantwini helped carry him to his grave.

I don’t know what I will tell Onikwa. If I send word that Khayone is dead she will want to come back here. I want her to stay in the city, to have a better life. That was Khayone’s last wish for her, I will honour it.

Day 85
The next morning a special imbizo is called. It’s special because people have gathered at the river. They watch Sintu from a short distance, knee-deep in water, holding a plastic bag filled with soil from Khayone’s grave. He had collected it before the crack of dawn.

“This,” he says, referring to the soil in the plastic bag, “represents the flesh and bones of Khayone. It is Khayone. Just as umkhwetha washes away the white clay from his body at this very spot, I will let the soil wash away with the river. Just as the white clay is carried with the river, Khayone’s infamous transgressions will wash away and be forgotten. He is reborn a man. We will not recall him as nofotyela.”

He empties the soil into the river and gazes upon his people.

“Did you hear that?” Sintu says, shouting. “Khayone is a man!”

People are silent, attentive to the chatter of birds and the burble of the flowing river. He walks towards the crowd. They clear a path for him, their faces frowning. He doesn’t look confident. He knows that his life, and Mothusi’s, hang by a thread. He knows that Gananda doesn’t make empty threats.

‘I will have you and your lover-boy killed!’ Sintu remembers his uncle’s words.

People do not follow him as he makes his way to the village. Unsettled, they stay behind at the river and engage in a long discussion of what they’d heard. It’s in this moment that Gananda reveals the true relationship between Sintu and Mothusi. The villagers are shocked; it’s beyond their tolerance; it cannot be. All agree that the lovers deserve to be burnt alive.

When Sintu arrives home, he convinces Mothusi they should flee.

“We have to leave the village,” he tells Mothusi. “People won’t accept us. We will never be free with my uncle and sister. Rather than being here, living as king and yet repressed, I choose love. I choose not to live without you.”

* * * * *

After a while, the villagers are armed with knobkerries and two tyres. They chant: “Bulal’ umthakathi. Bulal’ igqwirha! Kill the witches!” They finally arrive at Sintu’s house.

Manjingqi steps outside and tells the angry crowd that Sintu has left with Mothusi, in a hurry. They are long gone. The crowd scatters.

8 Months Later – The City
It has been a long time since I’ve returned to the city. I can’t say I don’t miss the natural environment at Kwanoqabaka. But I have someone special to meet later on: yesterday evening I received a call from Onikwa.

Onikwa
Khisto was right. Of all the bad luck we had, something good came through in the end.

Look what I have to show you. Look at my baby boy! Doesn’t he look like his father? I named him after Khisto. Sintu and Mothusi are like fathers to him. They are supporting me through varsity. Those guys are great. Little Khayone and I have found a place we can call home.

I have forgiven Sintu for what happened back at the village. We have to move past that now. We’re like family.

I miss Khisto, though … but it’s okay.

* * * * *

A bad ending can sometimes lead to a beginning of something new and good, I see that now. Truly, the making of this documentary has taught me a number of things, from different angles. I will make it public soon, to honour Khayone, and all the other outcasts living hopelessly. Something good is coming for you people after this storm.

***

Tell us: How do you feel about how the story ended for all the characters? What would have had to change for things to end differently?