Written by Nobuhle Nyoni
PART 3
Saturday was a new day with new problems. It was time for therapy.
“Either I have gotten used to the pain, or it is better today. The third option is that I am somewhat excited to go to therapy. Whichever it is, I am glad this uterus is not attempting to choke me out of life anymore. I can’t believe I will experience this every month for the rest of my life. Who did I offend? Right, Eve offended God on our behalf, so now we suffer for her sins. How does that even make sense?”
She sat at her desk and tore out the pages of her lengthy letter addressed to many. She laughed because she realised it read like an obituary. The difference was that someone else would be reading that on her behalf because she would be dead. She carefully folded them and placed them in her crossbody bag. She reached for the note from Mandla under her pillow and put it in her bag.
She remembered her pad disaster, so she sprung out of her seat and planted pads in ALL her bags. She never wanted to go through that ever again. The idea of getting stuck in a public place and having to talk to strangers gave her anxiety.
“Time to go, Sphe,” her mother shouted from her door with a light knock.
This ride was different from the first one. This time, Sphe’s mother played music to soften the atmosphere in the car. At intervals, her mother would forget Sphe was in the car and sing along. It was new to Siphesihle. She knew her mother to be the reserved mother who spoke when necessary and did boring things, like chores. She liked this side of her mom. It seemed much softer and more human.
When they pulled into Dr.T’s parking lot area, Sphe’s heart started beating. For someone very excited about the session, she wondered why she was suddenly anxious. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out, just like she had learnt from Dr. T. Then she realised that her anxiety was because she was about to share the letter with her therapist. The letter she had written felt too raw. What if somehow the information leaked and ended up with the people she wrote about?
As they walked into the office, she continued to take deep breaths. This time, she didn’t have to sit and wait for Dr. T to come and get her from the waiting area. The receptionist advised that the doctor was ready for her. She appreciated this because it gave her time to try and calm herself down.
When she walked in, Dr. T was sitting in the occasional chair. Same as the last time.
“This woman is beautiful, oh my word. If only I were as beautiful. Mandla would have seen me from day one.”
“Hi, Siphesihle. You may come and take a seat,” Dr. T interrupted her thoughts.
She walked in, blushing. Shame filled her lungs for being caught staring.
“Hi, Dr. T. How are you?”
“I am alright, happy to see you today. How was your week?”
“Eventful, I guess,” she says, hoping not to be questioned further.
“Oh, tell me what happened.”
“Why did you have to say it, Sphe? Now you have to relive it.”
“Uhhhhmmm… well, I got my period like you said I would. I was excited until I was not.”
“What happened to the excitement?”
“Well, a few things happened. I told Ropa, and she fed the information to the gossip girl who spread it around. All the girls do it because they want the boys to ask them out. After all, we are now in our womanhood era, you know. So I was not mad about it.
Until my pad was too wet and needed to be changed, only to find out I had forgotten to pack my extra pads. I quickly went to the nurse’s office. Nurse Thabi was so kind to me, but I was too angry with myself to see how kind she had been. When I left her office, I was so caught up in being angry that I forgot I was holding the extra pads she had given me.
I walked into class, and everyone laughed, gaining myself the nickname Pads Carrier, PC for short. The only good thing that came from that was that my crush finally said something to me. Well, not exactly. He wrote me a note and slipped it into my bag. Do not get me started on the pain that accompanies periods.”
“Congratulations on getting your period, Sphe. It sounds like you had an emotionally charged week. But do tell me a little more about your friend Ropa and this gossip girl situation.”
Sphe sighed.
“Well, the gossip girl spreads things very quickly. We have always known her to be a gossip, but she embraced her nickname and used it to get all the tea from people in our grade. So she was the right person to get word to the boys about my period.”
“Ok, why was Ropa the one to give the information to Gossip Girl and not you?”
“I am the more reserved one between the two of us. I wouldn’t have been able to say it out loud to anyone but Ropa.”
“How does Ropa feel about you getting your period?”
“I…couldn’t tell how Ropa felt. She seemed to be both excited and unexcited.”
“Explain.”
“She said, ‘You always come in last, so you will probably get a boyfriend last too. I haven’t even gotten one yet. So don’t let your period make you think you are in the race.'”
“How did that make you feel?” Dr. T asked, while leaning in a little.
Sphe shifted in her seat, “Like a loser. And she was not entirely wrong, you know. The only thing I am good at is school. I suck at everything else. I can’t even make friends. Ropa was a lucky shot.”
“Sphe, did you write those letters?”
Siphesihle reached into her bag and took out her 9-page letter.
“It somehow ended up being one long letter to multiple people. I am sorry. We don’t have to talk about all the other people. I didn’t mean to give you more work.”
“There is no need to apologise. Bring the letter over here. Let me get into your tea,” Dr. T said with a chuckle. “Nine pages of tea. I need a whole pot!”
They both laughed, and Dr. T could see that her joke helped Siphesihle relax a little more. Dr. T skimmed through the pages, looking for the part about Ropa.
I love you, Ropa. You have saved me from my loneliness. But sometimes, it feels like you don’t like me much. You say hurtful things and call them the truth. Does the truth always sting? I guess it does, but does it always leave people feeling less confident than before? It feels like a dangerous and painful love. I hate that you remind me that I am not all that pretty. My reflection in the mirror is enough. I know that I am on the chubby side. My body type is not conventional, but there is no need to call me a baby elephant. I laugh to shield my feelings because I fear losing you as a friend. I wish you were kinder to me and that your words reflected the love you say you have for me. I wish you didn’t pick and choose when to love and protect me. Am I the problem?
“Sphe, the things that your friend said to you were unkind. And I can tell from your letter that you also know this to be true. We need to figure out why you think you can never find friendship outside your current friendship.”
“I am quiet, less pretty and not popular at all. Save for now that I have a nickname.”
“Why do you think these things about yourself?”
“Ropa said so.”
“Why does Ropa’s word matter so much to you? Her words seem to bear so much meaning to you.”
“I don’t know,” she said with a whisper.
“Sisphesihle, we get to decide who we are, nobody else. You have limited yourself in your social life and believe that you are not worth more because of your friend’s opinions. It is untrue. I think you are capable of making friends. You are an intelligent, beautiful girl.
I could say all the right things, but the real work is within you. You have to believe that you are capable. Try to write down a list of the things you like about yourself and another list of the things you don’t like about yourself. You will find that there is so much more about you that is amazing than there is to dislike. And sometimes, the things we dislike about ourselves we can work on.
Secondly, you need to talk to Ropa and tell her how her words make you feel. If she breaks the friendship because you confronted her, then it shows the kind of person she is. She can’t be the only person to tell the truth in your relationship. It’s a two-way street.”
“What would I do if she stopped being my friend?”
“You do the hard thing—finding new ones that make you feel good and are kind to you. In life, we have to do the hard things. It helps us become more resilient.”
“I am scared.”
“I know, but you are going to be okay. Our time is up. I will read these letters over the next two weeks. I trust that you will have an update for me at our next session.”
With a faint smile, Sphe replied, “I hope so.”
“I will see you next time, right?”
“Yes, you will.”
Siphesihle was very worried about this talk she needed to have with Ropa. Her life revolved around their friendship. She knew nothing else. Sphe knew Dr. T was right and secretly wished she wasn’t.
“Do the hard thing.”
She waved at her mother; a signal that she was ready to leave the hospital. She sat quietly in the car, dreaming about the comfort of her bed. Moments later, she realised they were not driving home, but she assumed her mother needed to pick up some groceries at the mall, so she chose to enjoy the ride. Finding parking on a Saturday was always traumatic, and it took them a while to find a vacant parking spot.
She let her mother lead the way. She looked up to find they were standing at the entry of her favourite ice cream place. Her mom looked at her and smiled. Ice cream always cheered her up. The dread left her throat, and she galloped into the ice cream shop like a 2-year-old. Sphe ordered her usual waffles and ice cream. The only comfort food she felt mattered.
As they sat there, a group of teenagers walked in, laughing out loud and seemingly having a good time. Their presence reminded her of the emptiness in her life. She wanted that so badly. But even if she did what Dr. T had asked, her mother would still be standing in the way since she was hellbent on friendships being unnecessary.
“Mom, what is the truth behind you not believing in friends? What happened?”
Her mother had been caught off guard by the question. She wondered which version of the story to tell—the one where she was the victim or the truth.
Clearing her throat, she said, “I had a friend, Nompumelelo. I used to call her Nomps. We were inseparable back then. Everywhere she went, I went and vice versa. She knew everything about me, and I knew everything about her. I loved her. I thought we would be friends forever. One day, something I had shared with her was suddenly a topic at school. I knew she was the only person I had ever told because I trusted her. That feeling of betrayal is one I will never forget.
I confronted her, and she swore she had not told anyone about it. It hurt even more that she chose to lie to me. I never spoke to her ever again. I couldn’t find it in me to forgive her. I told her that she was heartless and wished her the worst in her life.
Two years later, my brother confessed to having fed the information to someone out of malice. My stomach sank. I had blamed her for something she never did. But for the life of me, I couldn’t apologise to her. It was easier to live in the lie than the truth. I blamed my brother for ruining our friendship without taking accountability for the part I had played. I miss her so much, and I wonder how her life went. I pray that my curses didn’t manifest in her life. I guess I became guarded with friends because I wasn’t a good one to Nomps.”
“What was the secret?”
“That your grandmother and grandfather were HIV positive. Back in the day, nobody understood what that meant. Everyone believed that a man got it from sleeping with a man and a woman got it from sleeping with too many men. Nobody understood that it was not ONLY sexually transmitted, so nobody wanted to touch or sit next to someone who had it.
My days at school were horrible from the time people found out about your grandparents’ HIV status. Before I knew the truth, I harboured hatred for Nompumelelo and blamed her for ruining my high school days. Nobody wanted to be associated with me anymore. I had to quit sports and school clubs because everyone thought I had HIV and would spread it. But the enemy was closer than I had imagined. A man I shared blood with who did it to spite our parents. He only made life difficult for all of us.”
“I am sorry, Mama.”
“I am sorry too, Sphe. I know that I have projected my insecurities onto you. I have robbed you of the chance to enjoy your teenage years. Not every friend you meet will be like me. I will do better, and maybe we can arrange a sleepover for you and your friends one of these weekends.”
“Friends? I don’t have friends. I have one friend that I might lose, thanks to Dr. T.”
“I would like that, Mom. Thank you for sharing this with me. It makes a lot of sense. Uhhhhmmmm. One more question.”
“Last one, please.”
“How old were you when you had sex for the first time?”
Her mother almost choked on her waffle. “Uhhhhhmmmm, I was not expecting that question. I was 18. No, it was not with your father. Sphe, I know you are now getting curious about sex, and it is ok. The other truth is that I cannot stop you from having sex. If you do decide to have sex, let it be because you want to. Not because you feel left out or pressured.
If you decide to have sex, please get tested with whoever you choose. I know you girls share secrets about how not to get pregnant because you think that is the scariest thing to come out of sex, but it is not. Disease is. Your father and I would be disappointed to see you pregnant before you finish school, but we will support you through it.
If you can, please wait until you are sure about it. Can I eat my waffle, please?”
Siphesihle nodded her head in agreement. Her mother was a teenager when she had sex. That had surprised her. How is it that she got married then? The women at church make it a point to remind them that loss of virginity meant hell and no marriage.
“What does sex feel like? What does it even look like?”
