In Search of Happiness

Sonwabiso Ngcowa

Description

Nana is fifteen when she travels from her village in the Eastern Cape to the city. She is overjoyed to be reunited with her family, even if they are living in a tiny shack. But she struggles to fit in at her new school, and she is shocked at the violence shown to Chino and Agnes, her Zimbabwean neighbours. When she and Agnes become close friends, and find love in unexpected places, Nana learns firsthand just how brutal ignorance can be and how hard it is to hold on to happiness.

Sujets

• Young Adult

Informations

• Publié par: Cover2Cover Books
• Date de parution: 01 mars 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 8
• EAN13: 9780992201869
• Langue: English

Extrait

DEDICATION
This novel is dedicated to all young people
who feel and know that they are
lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender or intersex.
Your love is as beautiful as love can be.
One day all people will understand
and respect love,
however it comes.
This time will come. Sometimes it is here already.


Contents
1 Kudala ezilalini – Long ago in the village
2 Ichaphaza elibomvu – The red stain
3 Yimini yendodla – Pension day
4 Ukuya eKapa – Leaving for Cape Town
5 Ikapa Lodumo – The Cape of Fame
6 Ndikwicala likaChino – On Chino’s side
7 Abanye abantu bohlukile nje – Some people are just different
8 Usuku lokuqala esikolweni – First day at school
9 Ukudibana noAgnes – Meeting Agnes
10 Inzondo engaka – So much hatred
11 Umhlobo osenyongweni – A special friend
12 Bhuti, Sisi, thandanani – Brother, Sister, love each other
13 Olunye uthando – Another love
14 Ingxaki noChino – Trouble with Chino
15 Phezu kwendlu – On top of the roof
16 UNana noAgnes naphakade – Nana and Agnes equals forever
17 Ukulilela uMakhulu – Tears for Makhulu
18 Ukuchaza kuMama – Telling Mama
19 Ikhona ingxaki – Something wrong
20 Kunye – Together

Because it’s Love: Poem by Zinzi Klaas
Afterword: Respect for all colours of love by Lutz van Dijk
Acknowledgements


1 Kudala ezilalini Long ago in the village

There was a life before Agnes. Although, I must admit, I can hardly believe how life would be without her now. How could I ever live the lonely life again? Lonely, lonely, lonely … as if I were the only one in the world with such feelings, such desires, such dreams. In the whole wide world, the only one. Without choosing. For I am who I am. But there was this time before Agnes. When I was still a child, with so much to learn.
Let me begin my story in the little village where I was born: Mpozisa. You have never heard of it before? Don’t worry, many have never heard of it … Soon you will know my village as if you once lived there yourself. Ulungile , are you ready?
I am going to take your hand as we leave the asphalt road leading to eDikeni – the small town of Alice – and follow the gravel one to Mpozisa. Can you see the acacia thorn trees everywhere? Can you see the small, green-yellow flowers and the white thorns pointing in every direction? Intlaka , gummy gel, drips down the branches and trunks of the trees. It is drawn out by the baking sun.
It may be hot now, but can you smell the rain coming? On this same day, we will get rain. Many times it happens, in summer. A smell so good. The frogs come out to play, even before the rain starts. Can you hear them croak?
And here we are … my cousin Nolu and me. Her slender body carries her big breasts. She always has a new hairstyle. This time she has brown hair extensions. Nolu is already about sixteen; I have just turned eleven. Can you see me on the long and winding path returning from a forest some hills away? I am struggling to walk with a heavy bunch of firewood on my back. She had promised to take turns. But when I stop walking and put the bunch down in front of me, she just laughs and starts running ahead.
I kick off my flip-flops in anger and shout: “ Yima! Wait, Nolu! It’s your turn – you promised!”
But she just laughs again and keeps running towards Makhulu’s mud house, shouting, “See you later, Nanase!” Nolu mostly calls me by my full name: Nanase. I don’t like it, although Mama told me once that Makhulu had chosen it for me and the meaning is not that bad: “the little smiling one”. Actually, it is bad. I am neither little nor do I smile a lot. I prefer my nickname: Nana. It is used by Makhulu and all my friends. Of course, you can also call me Nana.
I put my flip-flops on again and shoulder the firewood. I arrive home much later than Nolukhulo. I will not say a word to Makhulu as she will just worry more. Makhulu worries enough already.
So that is me and my older cousin, who everybody just calls Nolu.
***
It has been six years already since my father left to find work in Cape Town. Mama went a year later and took my older sister Asanda with her. Why Asanda and not me? I wish I knew.
One day Nolu said to me, “Asanda can help already. You are just intombi encinci , a small girl who needs to be looked after all the time.”
I don’t believe Nolu. One day, after all these years, I might see Asanda again – and then I will ask her myself.
Mama and Tata have stopped visiting even around iKrismesi. This December will be the third one we have not seen them. Every year since they left I have celebrated Christmas with only Makhulu, my granny, and my cousin Nolu, who is busy with boys, day and night – something I don’t think I will ever do. Sometimes, in the early years, my parents sent imali, money to our neighbour’s account – never more than five hundred rand at a time. But that has also come to an end. Like my birthday presents. On my birthday Mama used to phone and say the sweetest things, but that was when Makhulu still had her old cellphone. Mama has stopped doing even that now. The best thing about my birthday now is that Makhulu allows me to relax and never asks me to fetch water or do anything on that day.
Makhulu has a hard face. I have not seen her smile for a long time. But she has a heart of gold. Every pension day, once a month, she brings home nice food. Mostly it is for Nolu and me – things we really like, sometimes even a small bar of chocolate each. Only now and again she will bring something for herself, for example fresh fish. Makhulu loves fish.
“My father was a fisherman, a good one,” she would say while frying the fish in the pan. I like the smell. The smell of fried fish can last for days in a room. Even when you only have bread left, you can still eat the bread and smell the fried fish and imagine the taste.
I like to be in Makhulu’s good books. But I can’t help fighting with Nolu, all the time. She always tells me that I should show her respect and call her Sisi. Sometimes she pretends to be my older sister. But she isn’t, and never will be. No one could ever replace Asanda. Okay, Nolu is older, by almost six years. Her seventeenth birthday is not far away, as she reminds us every day. But at sixteen, even soon seventeen, she is not that old. In fact, she just likes ordering me around.
It doesn’t make it easier that we have had to share a bed since Mama’s old one broke. And that means that I can’t escape hearing about her relationships with boys. Here is a story about Mphumeli, one of her many boyfriends.
***
It is early evening. We just did isikhungo , the evening prayer, with Makhulu. The sun is going down, last beams through the dusty window with one glass broken, the upper part fixed with cardboard. Long shadows even in our little shared room. It will be dark in no time. Look how she enjoys smearing Cocoa Butter down her long dark legs, her thin fingers covering every inch of skin carefully, up and down and around, up and down and around.
Suddenly she stops, looking up dramatically to the cracked ceiling: “Love is in the air, baby …”
“What do you mean?” I ask her, not really out of curiosity, but just to say something.
Nolu leans on my shoulder. The soft skin of her arm touches my neck.
“I am going to Mphumeli,” she whispers in my ear.
“Okay … enjoy,” I respond, trying to sound as bored and casual as possible.
“Hey , wena – don’t be funny. This time I need to go in the night. I promised Mphumeli to come to him after darkness.”
I do not look up or reply.
After a while Nolu says, “When Makhulu sleeps …”
I still do not look up. Then I feel her warm breath in my ear as she whispers, “You know what you must do, neh?”
“No idea!” I respond, feeling the trouble building up.
“Makhulu checks twice every night that the doors and windows are locked – you know that.”
“We are just girls here in the house, Nolu. Makhulu must do that,” I say, sneering at her.
“That is where you come in, my dear Nana. I need you to open our bedroom window for me early in the morning.” She is using my nickname. So I know Nolu wants something from me.