I have always felt a sense of wonder and curiosity when it comes to my paternal grandmother. Her presence seemed to carry an air of mystery, intriguing me to learn more about her. She possessed a uniquely captivating essence, with her full figure, distinguished gray hair, and a resounding voice that filled any room she entered. One unmistakable feature that caught my attention was the endearing tooth gap between her incisors, adding to her charismatic charm. It was a familiar sight to see her with a Stuyvesant Blue cigarette in hand, a habit she indulged in frequently, surpassing even the combined efforts of her own sons. Though I did not have the opportunity to know her well before 2004, what I did observe was her infectious laughter and immense capacity for love. Each memory of her sparks a sense of warmth and longing, as I cherish the moments spent with this remarkable woman.
A cousin of mine who had been living in Hamanskraal whom I only knew in pictures and by the name of Lebo had relocated back to Mtata to live with our grandmother, MamQhinebe. We just called her Qhinebe. Everyone in the community did. I actually did not know her real name until she passed away. Lebo’s move from the north meant that my circle would have to add one more person. He was 3 months older than I was and had a cheeky attitude. We had a weird rivalry. I do not really know what it is that each of us was really claiming but we just had this urge to constantly fight. It made absolutely no sense. He was admitted to another school different from mine. We both owned dogs and we would constantly bitch about whose dog was better. He became close with my brother, and I was not bothered. He was a welcomed distraction. That year, 2003 went by. Zoe and I sleep in the kitchen, working on the weekends. Sometimes I slept over at Inga’s and sometimes we went to Grandma’s. Those weekends away were always bliss. They would not always go great, though, because the three houses were literally on the same street. So if I was needed back home they could literally send a kid from next door to come get me. I went to my mom’s that year’s December holidays and had the time of my life.
2004
The sleeping arrangement at Gran’s place was a bit different from Dad’s. We now slept in the sitting room (You see? Logic! No one ever comes through the sitting room in this township unless they are told to) and no one would judge us because, as my gran put it, this is not their home. Lebo transferred to Ebenezar so we would be in the same school. In addition, I stopped travelling with Dad to school and used the school bus, which was a new experience for me. We had to get up early to be able to catch the bus. I had not been eating my gran’s cooking for more than two weeks and my thighs were already taking grip of my grey pants. It was a heaven on earth, my cheekbones were disappearing and so were my ribs. Living with Qhinebe was a beautiful experience, I was a child and I did childish things again. I let my hair down (what hair? I had a chiskop the whole time). The one pitfall was that the chess game was still playing and I had forgotten about that. I had no reason to remember it anyway. On the school front, I had regained my competence and I constantly competed for first place with the crème of the crop. Life was beautiful again. Lebo and I had decided to bury the hatchet for a bit and we worked in harmony to achieve our goals. We became inseparable. April that year there was a chickenpox outbreak at school. We were both severely affected and had to stay away from school for a week and rub calamine all over our bodies. It hurt so badly. If you have never had, chickenpox praise the Lord God Almighty. That stuff really hurts. I moved to believe that the disease was rightfully named chickenpox because it feels like a chicken viscously pecking at you with its beak; chicken pokes! The calamine made it worse. The spots afterwards would prove to be a formidable enemy to a teen still trying to build his image and low-key looking to get a girlfriend. It was just a terrible experience; sadly, it would be the least of my worries.
The second term would open a new door to a problem that would plague my entire time at Ebenezar. A letter from the finance department of the school informing me that I owed school fees for the first time. The game was still on. Until now my dad had always devised a way to get my fees paid else I would be kicked out of school. However, now I was no longer under his roof and he was not paying for anything in my regard. Gran had told him plainly that she did not want his money because he had failed to provide when I was living with him so why in the hell does he want to do it now? So, he again played into a trap (Samson of note this guy, really). He was not paying school fees as he should and so I was kicked out of class. For context, Ebenezar Combined School is located 13 KM (one way) outside of Mtata so I could not just waltz out of the school gate and go home. There was a forest between Ebenezer and Ngangelizwe Township, which is notorious. Then there is Ngangelizwe itself which for a 12-year-old kid from another township was a no-go zone. Therefore, I was stuck at school to be the spectacle for everyone whose parents actually cared about their academic well-being. I was frustrated to say the very least. At first, I thought he would take a hint from the onset and not do it again because this hindered my learning process. Being put out of class took me back to ’98 and I did not want to experience that again. Moreover, I expressed that to him and he listened for a season. Term 3 went fine. In term 4, we were back to square one. I was permitted to write my finals but I would not see the results thereof. Grandma’s eye had seen my anguish and she had rescued my piece from the wrath of the queen but we were one piece short of checkmate -the king.
I had spent those days being outside class lurking by the back window of the class like a shadow, looking in at what the teacher was doing and taking notes. The embarrassment was a bitter cup I swallowed and I wore it like a cape. I had to. I needed to maintain good marks. I would not let this stop me. If I was out of class and I succumbed to that, I would be left behind and I would fail. Then it’s 1998 all over again and I was not about to let that happen. I woke up every day and went to school knowing that I would be out of class but I was there, in the sun, learning. If anything, that period was a defining moment for me. It killed Lebo to have me go out and him to be inside the classroom. Nevertheless, it was life, it was this life; my life and we had to live it.
Echoes of Resilience 
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