GONE TOO SOON

 Early Wednesday, chilly from the morning breeze but warm enough for late-summer sunrise, I stepped outside my house with my schoolbag securely on my shoulders and my black plaited uniform perfectly set. The sun was out from the back mountain of Sehlabeng-sa-Thuathe, warming the bits of our roof. I walked until I reached the end of my father’s patterned self-made bricks corridor. It was the best in the village, created from the red and yellow bricks from Loti Bricks, his workplace. At the end of the bricks, I looked down the soil and searched carefully on the ground.  Before I reached the end of the yard, I saw what I was looking for; Patterns of night roosters tracing through the ground all the way to the end of the yard. Frantically, I started sweeping away the patterns with my well polished buccaneers. I should have woken up earlier to sweep them off but I had been waking up late lately, as a result of sleeping very late. Soon my brother got out of the house and stood by me, wearing his own khaki uniform.

     “What are you doing?” He looked down at my working feet. I wished he could help me and stop asking questions. It was both our troubles.

     “Can’t you see? It’s the enemy roosters’ steps. I’m removing them.”

     “Leave them. We will be late for school. I don’t want to get a beating again this week.” He grabbed my wrist and dragged me behind him.

     “No. We have to remove them. Mama didn’t wake up today. If we don’t remove them…” he let lose of his touch and stopped, sensing tears from my cranky voice.

     “She will wake up. She always wakes up. Come on, don’t be like this again. If she sees you crying then it will break her.” He was looking at me like I was being ridiculous. Maybe I was.

Casting a quick glance back at the house, I speedily wiped my tears away and followed my brother out of the hook. Our walk to school was silent and quick. No more run races and step-stone games since the last two weeks when mama suddenly got worse with her tuberculosis sickness. She had been sick for the last two years when Father died from heart attack. The past two Christmas were the worst ones in my life. No lights decorations and no new clothes from Durban. We got new clothes for Christmas but I never really liked them because the shoes were either too big or small for me. Only mama knew our sizes and she couldn’t buy anything for us.   

When we finally got to school, it was still within the right time so we did not have to run all around so that the headmaster, Mrs. Rosalia wouldn’t see us. My brother looked rather relieved.

     “Well, I will see you during lunch time.” He said and turned to go.

     “Abuti Ts’epo!” he looked back expectantly.

I wanted to run to him and cry out loud. That’s what I felt like at that moment, but it was school and we would eventually end up getting a beating for wondering during the morning study. I swallowed hard.

     “What if mama dies alone in the house?” I asked with new tears forming in my eyes.

My brother sighed; he was getting accustomed to the same question every day before we part to our classes. And like everyday, he said the same thing,

     “She will not die alone, Mpho. She is going to recover well and take care of us. She promised to buy you a real phone when you pass your Class 7.”

Even though it was the same words always, his words always casted a light spell to my heavy heart and I smiled through my tears and nodded. I watched him walk to his classroom and open the light wooden door written class 6B with a black paint. When he was out of sight, I walked to my own class 4A and entered with tears fully removed from my eyes.

The day went by faster than I had imagined. Our class teacher was absent so we spent most of the time listening to the radio lessons. I, on the other hand slept until the lunch bell rang and kids ran out of the class to eat their lunch. I didn’t see my brother during the lunch time and when I asked his friend, he said the headmaster had forced him to go cut his hair. I should also cut my hair too, but I had been reluctant since last Wednesday when my class teacher told me to take my time. Somehow he also saw something from my eyes and decided maybe mama’s time was near too.

Other kids from my class had gotten quite nice to me too. I figured Mr. Lereko must have said something to them. But I didn’t care about all those things anymore. Besides, I didn’t know most them in my class. I didn’t play much because I would sleep during lunch or go and watch my brother and older boys play soccer. It was the only familiar thing to do in this school since I arrived in mid February. I didn’t like the school, but mama had said it was a good start for all of us so I had to pretend to like it. Maybe I will like it as time went by. The kids in my class called me the new girl whose mother is sick. I hated the name but it was better than my old school, where they used to mock me for my father’s imprisonment. I hated life then.   

At 13:30 when the bell rang, I hurriedly snatched my schoolbag and headed out the door before anyone else. I went to my brother’s class and picked in. They were being taught Maths, my brother’s favorite subject. He was scribbling in his exercise book with his friend near him peaking along. I sat down and waited. Normally I would run home to mama and to clean the house, but I had grown afraid of going alone since two weeks back when I found her on the floor passed out with pee and stool all around her. For a moment I had fought she was dead but then she woke up through my sobs and heavily shaking her. Since that day, she never said anything with her mouth. She could only smile and shake her head. I knew then that she getting closer to her end. My brother had said that I had saved mama, maybe she would have gone if I didn’t arrive at the time I did. I thought he was only trying to make me feel better but somehow it made sense. Suddenly I stood up and took my bag. He saw me and I waved him goodbye and left. I ran all the way from school until I couldn’t catch my breath anymore. It was then that I trotted until I opened my door.

The smell of mincemeat welcomed me with the sweetest aroma that my grandma always used when she cooked meat. I sighed with relieved and made a thank you prayer to God that mama was still alive. I closed the door and it was only then that my grandma peeked from the bedroom door.

     “Who is it? Oh it’s my youngest granddaughter. Come kiss your granny, my Nunu.” She raised her hands and motioned me to hug her.

I dropped my schoolbag and ran into my grandma’s arms and kissed her five times on the mouth. When I pulled back, I saw my grandpa sitting by my mother’s side with a bowl of soft porridge trying to feed mama. I ran to him also and kissed him.

     “'M'e!” I looked down at my mother, sleeping flatly on the mattress on the floor. She looked the same as yesterday and the last two years, deathly thin and helpless, much more like a skeleton than my once beautiful mother.

     “She can’t speak, my baby.” Grandma said, stroking my back gently.

     “I know,” I said, “She hasn’t said anything for the last two weeks.”

     “Oh! We didn’t know she has gone this badly.” Grandpa said, clearly expressing regret in his voice.  I sat down beside mama, took a bigger pillow and pulled her up in a sitting position before putting the pillow behind her. My grandparent watched me silently as I started reading the book near mama’s pillow loud to her.

When the book was done, I took the warm bowl from my grandpa and fed her. I waited until she smiled and then stood up to put the bowl away.

     “My girl, fetch me the water. I want to wash some of these blankets. We will be expecting more visitors soon.” Grandma said when I was taking off my uniform.

     “Okay, grandma.” I put my uniform in the wardrobe and took out sixty cents from the shelf and headed to the door. I looked at mama; she was starting to fall asleep then. As I looked away, suddenly her eyes flicked open. She looked straight into my eyes and smiled. For a moment, her smile was alive and bright. Her face became light and happy, like she might suddenly sing her favorite hymn from the members of Cecilia from St. Paul Church. But almost suddenly the smile was gone. Still looking at me, she nodded her head twice and slowly her eyes dropped. I didn’t wait to see everyone’s response. I snatched two bucket in the kitchen and headed out. Before I closed the door, Grandma said,

     “What’s she doing now, ntate Tomase?” I could feel panic in her voice even from a distant.

     “She is just resting.” It was Grandpa’s words before my hand forced to pull the door shut.

I didn’t even bother to take the wheelbarrow. My subconscious told me I didn’t need it, as I didn’t need those buckets in my hands. But my hands wouldn’t obey my mind. It was when I reached the end of the yard that finally Grandma’s scream cursed the air. Even then, I didn’t stop walking. Instead, I started running. Not to the pump, not to the neighbors, and definitely not to my aunt’s place. I ran to my school. I ran to where my brother was sitting and writing Maths with his friend. I ran to my brother. I didn’t see anybody on the way but when I looked up one time, about to cross the road, there he was. He had seen me too. He had been running too. But his heavy breathing wasn’t from running, he was crying.  

      

“An owl.” My brother cried from across the road. “I saw an owl.”

My hands finally gave in and dropped the buckets. I cried then. I said down on the ground and cried. Everything opened up, my throat screamed out too. I felt my brother’s hands on my shoulders and we both started crying.