A week later the doctors told us that my sister was getting better and had been taken off the ventilator.

“Thank you Lord!” was all I could say. Although Ayola and I have different fathers, I love her deeply – even more deeply now that, along with Khulu, she is the relative most close to me.

“So what do the doctors say? Can she come home?” asked Khulu after I had shared the good news with her.

“In the next week or so she will be discharged. The doctors are still observing her closely as covid is an unpredictable enemy. But they are hopeful that she will be fine.”

“Oh I am so relieved my boy! I really can’t wait to see her back home.”

“Yes Khulu. That is all I want as well. You will have to stay with us for a while as she will still be weak. We need your help.”

“Yes, of course I will stay with you, my grandchildren, until I can see that you are strong enough to be on your own.”

As much as I was happy about my sister, as I have mentioned before, the absence of people in our home while we were going through the saddest moments of our lives sometimes felt worse than the sword of death itself. Hearing about Ayola barely clinging on to life, people shunned us more than ever. Some would literally run away from me.

But soon I did not mind, because I knew that Ayola was getting better. That alone felt as though a huge load had been taken off my shoulders. And I knew that as much as people had shunned us, I could never hate or blame them.

People were scared, and they are still scared, because even while I found out that Ayola was getting better, I saw on the News that numbers were of Covid cases were rising fast.

Light was appearing on the horizon for us, but I missed my ex-girlfriend, Lisa. This may sound stupid, but felt I still loved her, despite her showing no sympathy for me at all in these terrible times.

How I wished that Lisa would just call, or at least send a message, but she was nowhere to be found. I heard from her friends that she had told them she is scared I might infect her with the virus!

That nearly broke my heart in to pieces because I loved her. But love is a two-way thing, and you cannot force it.

I had to be strong though, for the sake of my grandmother. She had lost her daughter, and now her adorable granddaughter was clinging to life by a thread – all this in the space of two weeks.

Then a few days after my mother’s funeral my uncle called. He started with a few words about being sorry that he could not make it to the funeral and bhla bhla bhla. But he quickly came to the point. “Listen mtshana, I know you must be swimming in cash right now,” he said, kind of jokingly.

“What do you mean, Uncle George?” I asked, a bit puzzled. But I suspected where he was going with this line of talk.

“I mean, it is just the two of you. Your mother has left you with a fortune. All these years working as a nurse. How many years was it now – 20 years, mtshana!? That must be a lot of cash. You need to share with us, mtshana. We are also suffering and have been hurt a lot by your mother’s death. She was my only sister, remember.”

My uncle sounded like a devil to my ears but I remained calm.

“I don’t understand you, malume. What do you mean exactly? Is that all you can say just few days after the funeral of my mother? No, malume! How can you be so heartless?”

Tears streamed down from my eyes. Suddenly Khulu appeared and grabbed the phone from my hand. “What is he saying? Huh?”

“Uncle George wants a share of the payout of my mom’s funeral policies.”

“Yinile! Where are his manners? He must go find work if he needs money. Ondela, put this on speaker,” demanded Khulu, looking at the screen of the phone as if she was going to see my uncle’s face.

“Hey wena George, how dare you! How could you ask money from Ondela, knowing what he is going through?”

“Mama, you don’t understand. As the eldest in our family, by custom I need to perform some rituals and invite the forefather’s spirits to find the grave of my sister. You know that culturally she is supposed to be buried here, next to our relatives. I need to go talk and explain her death to the ancestors, and that needs money,” he said.

“Money to do what? All you can think of is money, George? You should be ashamed of yourself. You disgust me, my son!” Khulu nearly spat on the floor, but she remembered that there were a couple of people around.

“I need money to do a ceremony to bring her spirit home and also to explain to the ancestors that because of this–”

Khulu cut him off before he could finish his concocted lies. She threw her hands in the air. “Hayi suka man George? Go away! What ceremony is that? How are you going to perform the ceremony under the strict rules of covid-19? You think we are stupid? You think you are only one who can think, hey?”

But Uncle George was so determined to get the money he just continued. “It’s fine then Mama. But he can send me money so long, so I can go talk to a sangoma meanwhile. To liaise for us with our ancestors. We can’t take this lightly Mama, or it will backfire on us. I need to buy two cows and also have money for the sangoma who will do the ritual of bringing their souls back, and also of pleading with our ancestors. We need to beg them so that they don’t wander about looking for the soul of my sister.”

“You are really bluffing now, George. You are completely out of your mind,” Khulu dropped the phone.

I didn’t worry over what my uncles were saying about my mother’s soul being lost if the ceremony was not conducted. I was not even scared when Uncle George threatened me, saying I would be followed by bad luck and grief. According to our custom, he is the rightful one to do such ceremonies – that is, if times were different.

It’s not that I don’t believe in our customs and rituals. But I know my mother was a kind woman and she died knowing fully what was going on in the world. She would never be a ‘lost soul’.

A month after the funeral, I finally got a call from Lisa. She wept and blamed herself for acting like a child. In other words, she wanted us to get back together. She was begging me, saying she did not know what had got into her, throwing out our love like that.

I did not give her an answer right away, because when I needed her the most she had been unavailable. I am still battling in my mind: should I take her back or not? I don’t think I still need her in my life. Or do I?

After all, I have to take care of my sister who has just been released from the hospital. Although Ayola is doing better by the day, she is still weak and her memory has been affected. But the doctors have told me that she will be her old self, as long as she does not rush into things too soon. Covid symptoms can come and go for many months.

No … I think such a great let down from someone who is supposed to love you is too much to forgive. It hurts, but the hurt is lessening. Lisa will remain my ex.

***

Tell us: Do you blame Lisa for dumping Ondela? If you were Ondela, would you accept Lisa’s apology and start afresh?