Written by Nobuhle Nyoni
PART 2
“What is this day? It took an embarrassing moment for my crush to write me a note and slip it into my bag. What’s happening is not how I pictured our first interaction going. I wanted him to crash into me whilst I was holding books so they fall and we pick them up together, then he would look at me with googly eyes whilst apologising profusely for being a clutz.
But I guess that only happens in the movies. In my reality, it takes pads, tears, and a chocolate bar. This win feels like a loss. They should have just called me a loser—less effort but accurate. But what does he mean, if I want? That’s a bit weird. Cause…”
A knock at the door cut her thoughts short. She quickly tucked her note under the pillow. The last thing she needed was to answer questions about why a boy was writing to her.
Her mom walked in wearing a smile with a plastic bag in her hands. Her mother looked unsure of what to say or how to say it. Siphesihle wondered if this was just about her getting her period or if something else was on her mind.
“Hi, my love, your father told me you got your period. I am sorry I was not here to help you with it. It must have been uncomfortable telling your Dad. I should have just taught you everything when you turned 13. How was day one?”
“It was fine, Mom. And Dad did alright,” Sphe replies, hoping her mother doesn’t catch the lie in her eyes.
“That’s good to hear. Well, I bought you more sanitary wear options. The brand your Dad gave you isn’t so ‘hip.’ I know girls talk about this stuff. As time passes, you will learn your flow and what works best for you. But usually, day one is light. Days two to three are heavier. Toward the end, it gets lighter again.
If you stain your underwear or clothes, wash them only with cold water. Hot water sets the stain. If you are in a place where you can’t attend to it right away and it dries, soak the items in cold water with salt. The stain will come out. Periods can be unpredictable, so always keep a pad or two in your bag. Uhhhhhmmmmm…”
Her mother shuffled her feet as if searching for words that weren’t there. She wanted to have the sex talk with her but couldn’t figure out where to start. So silence filled the room.
“Thank you, Mom. I wish I had known about the stain removal tricks in the morning. Now those undies are ruined,” Sphe said, giggling.
Her mom laughed and said, “That’s why I bought you two packs of black underwear just for your period. Anyway, your aunt prepared supper today, and I am sure it is ready. Shall we?”
Sphe nodded her head and followed her mother to the dining room. Her aunt was one of the most outspoken people she knew. She secretly hoped her mother had not told her about her period because it would become a conversation. She had heard enough about her womanhood and “bloodshedding” era for the day.
Before her bum could touch the dining chair, her aunt began talking, “I hope your mother told you that it’s books before boys because boys bring boring babies.”
Her mother shot a look at her sister. Siphesihle knew that her mother was trying to silence her sister. Sphe’s father picked up his plate, left the dining table and headed for the lounge. He knew Aunt Dineo was stubborn and loud, so he chose his peace.
“Oh my God, what is happening right now? Is Aunt Dineo about to talk to me about sex? I do not even have a boyfriend, and she thinks I am going to get pregnant. Lol. The joke is on you, my darling aunt. This girl has only earned herself a nickname because of this period. And a note. A note from the boy she likes. But surely, it means nothing.”
“Siphesihle, now that you have come into womanhood, your body will change, and the boys will swarm around you like bees in honey. They will make you feel special, but all they want is to get in between your legs. And that is the beginning of the end.
Keep your legs closed. Besides, sinners don’t see heaven. And you will not see marriage if you have been ‘ruined’ by those boys. Angeke bakuthathe – they will not marry you.”
“Dineo!” her mother says.
“Liqiniso Nto, lawe uyakwazi.”
(“It’s the truth, Nto, and you know it too.”)
Sphe sat there in silence. She didn’t know what to say, so she kept chewing away, and slowly, their voices faded into the background as her thoughts became louder.
“If only they knew I’ve already found the man who will marry me. He may not know it yet, but I do. I can feel it. His kindness to me today may be all I needed to know that he is perfect. So what do I say in my note? Should I tell Ropa or keep it to myself until I am sure it’s something? ‘Cause I could be lying to myself. He may have just felt sorry for me and nothing more. Honestly, what is my life?
Speaking of writing, I have therapy on Saturday and haven’t written those letters. I will write one to Aunt Dineo as well. I don’t quite like her forwardness. Sex? Me?”
The laughter from her mother and aunt snapped her out of her daze, and she realised that her plate was empty. She smiled because it meant she could leave the table. Sphe got up to clear the table as usual. When she walked into the kitchen, shock travelled through her body. The kitchen was a mess. It looked like her aunt used every utensil, pot and pan in the house. She set the dishes in her hands down and stood there, not knowing where to begin.
She wanted to complain and tell her aunt that the reason she wasn’t married may not be about virginity, but it most certainly is because she is messy. But she knew it would result in her getting scolded, so she decided to save it for the letter instead. As she worked through the kitchen, she could feel anger building up, and there was heat in her head again. A task that often took her 30 minutes had taken her over an hour because of one person.
After cleaning the kitchen, she stomped back to her room, closed her door and grabbed her notepad. Nine pages later, she had addressed way more people than assigned by her therapist, from family members to schoolmates and strangers whose names she didn’t know. With each word penned, the heat in her head dissipated. But what she felt was emotional exhaustion. With the bit of strength she had left, she prepared for bed. When her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light.
Morning came, but it was not like any other morning. She was rudely shaken out of sleep by unfamiliar pain. It was like a needle was stabbing her lower abdomen over and over again. She brought her knees up in hopes of stopping the pain, but that did nothing for her.
“Are these the period pains the girls spoke about as if they were a breeze? This pain is horrible. Someone sign me out of womanhood if it comes with so much soreness. I might die from this. Surely, women deserve to run heaven if this is what earth feels like for us. Oooooh, make it stop.”
She remembered that her Dad had given her painkillers, so she got up to get them, only to realise she had stained her pyjamas. Luckily, it didn’t transfer to her sheets.
“Just great!” she said to herself.
She decided a shower would be best before taking her meds. The bloodstain tricks her mother had shared with her had worked. And her period panties were so comfortable. Instead of getting into her uniform, she wore a pair of tights and a T-shirt. She felt horrible and could not imagine sitting through classes in this much pain. She knew she needed to eat before taking her medications, but she didn’t care. She wanted the pain to go away.
Moments after popping her meds, she floated back into sleep. An hour later, her mother knocked on the door, but she was sleeping deep and heard nothing. Her mother walked in to check on her, and the missing pills told the entire story. She left her daughter to sleep. She called her teacher to let her know she would not be coming in for the day and that they would see her on Monday instead.
Siphesihle’s day was nothing but cramps, back pain, painkillers, food and sleep. For the first time, she wished she was a boy. Boys never have to go through any of this. But she didn’t have enough time to curse at the period gods because the painkillers would kick in and take her back to dreamland. And just like that, her day was over.
