My life was meaningless without Lizo. Everything made me feel lonely. Things would have been better if there was someone I could talk to. But this was our secret, a deep secret. Even my mother knew nothing about Lizo and me.

Five years passed with me roaming around the cattle grazing grounds, hoping that I would see Lizo again. Every time I came back empty handed.

In those five years I went on with my studies. I became a teacher two months after my graduation. I loved my job as it kept me busy, and I forgot about Lizo for a while. Every morning I would approach my learners with enthusiasm. My learners called me ‘teacher’, but would use my surname, calling me, ‘Teacher Ntsinde’ to differentiate me from the other teachers.

Then one night I had a dream. The dream was filled with happiness. But when I woke up I couldn’t remember clearly what the dream was about. It was all fuzzy. My body was tired. I dragged myself to school. I was scared. The way I was trembling during the morning devotion I thought I would collapse. When I tried to search my mind for the cause of all this, I could find none.

The learners entered the room, which was filthy with goat droppings. I was busy paging through my Maths book. I couldn’t remember anything. When I asked the students about the previous day’s lesson, they just stared at me and made me nervous. I started afresh, paging through the book. I was fed up when I heard a knock on the door. It’s the clueless principal, I thought.

When I looked up, I saw something I never expected. It was someone with a big smile, a smile that reminded me of somebody.

After trying to find my voice and call him to come to me, I instead went closer to him.

Lizo! I was surprised.

“Thobani, how are you my friend?” he greeted me pleasantly.

I was struck dumb, and didn’t know how to react. Yes, I wanted to hug him in front of my learners. I also wanted to slap his face. At last, I had heard Lizo’s voice; the voice that I had yearned for all those years.

“So many years!” That’s all I could say, holding back tears.

We went to talk aside, leaving the learners unattended.

“Ntsinde’s son,” he said after a long silence. “How are you, my friend?”

He laughed so that I could see how happy he was, and then kissed my hand. Wow! He stirred up feelings which I had long been burying, and my knees started to weaken in front of him.

When I asked about where he had been, he scolded me saying, “Leave it, maan. I have good news for you.”

I gave him all my attention, expecting him to tell me that he had completed his photography studies, and was now practising.

“I’m getting married on Saturday,” he said, with his hand on my shoulder. “But I’d like you to come on Friday.”

I faked a laugh, thinking he was joking. But the smile quickly left my face as soon as he gave me the invitation.

“I’d like you to be my best man, my friend. I’m begging you with all my heart.”

“Lizo!” I found myself saying that, but deep inside I knew there was nothing I could do.

I asked myself whether Lizo was getting married because he was forced by his father, or was it his own will.

I then remembered the day we were coming from the mountain, from the initiation school, and his father said to him: “A chief becomes a real chief when he has a wife.” He stressed this in a way that made me sick. To him it was important to see Lizo’s children while he was still alive. There was a rumour that Lizo’s father was proposing to take him a wife, a girl by the name of Thobeka. But those were pure lies. When I had asked Lizo about this, he told me that he would never take a wife while I was still alive.

I now asked him where he was for the past five years, and he said he went to Johannesburg to work for lobola.

I dragged myself to that wedding because I did not want to disappoint Lizo. From a distance I could tell by the noise that there was a big crowd. I entered the smoke-filled kraal. A huge piece of meat was on the fire. As the best man, I sat next to Lizo, who was sitting in the corner.

This was a traditional wedding, and most people were in their traditional regalia. After we had exchanged greetings the noise was a sign that the bride was approaching the kraal. When she arrived, everything came to a standstill. The men gazed at her.

“Thobeka is a natural beauty, my friend,” said Lizo, holding my hand tightly.

“Yes, your wife is beautiful, my friend.” I wasn’t sure why I was saying this.

“She is not yet my wife, my friend. Tonight I will officially make her my wife.” I could see how happy he was as he was saying this. I was dying inside.

I don’t know how and when I left the kraal. But I found myself, wiping tears from my eyes, behind the houses, where no-one could see me.

* * *

Tell us what you think: Will Lizo get married?