Zodwa nodded, eyes cast down at his wing tips that shone even in the dirt.

“Look at me,” he instructed gently, chucking her chin so that she met his gaze. “You are a Khumalo, just like me. We are a great people, proudly Zulu. We meet the eyes of the world. And if we do not like what we see when we go out into it, then what do we do?” he asked, repeating a refrain that Zodwa had heard many times.

“We change it.”

“Yes, we change it. We make it better. Now is my time but one day it will be yours. When that time comes, make me proud, little sister.”

Dumisa is another person that Zodwa has let down, which she prefers not to think about, but in keeping Leleti’s ritual alive, she ensures that she starts every day thinking about her brother and mother whether she wants to or not. She’s an orphan now since both of her parents are dead, but is there even a word for someone whose whole family is dead?

Yes, there is. Cursed.

But maybe her whole family isn’t dead. She needs to go call the children’s sanctuary again from the spaza shop pay phones to apologize and set up another appointment. This time, she’ll keep it.

CHAPTER FORTY

Ruth

2–17 December 1994

Verdriet, Magaliesburg, South Africa, and Turffontein, Johannesburg, South Africa

I snatched up the phone when it rang. “Hello, Ruth speaking.”

“Hello, Ruth. It’s Lindiwe.” I’m so relieved to hear the social worker’s voice, I could cry.

“Please tell me there’s good news.” I don’t want to be rude but I’m also not in the mood to make small talk. The fostering process has been dragging on, each phase stretching out longer than the one before, and if this is what an expedited process looks like, I don’t want to see a slow one. I’m hoping for some finality now that all the medicals have been completed along with the other mounds of paperwork.

Lindiwe, to her credit, gets straight to the point. “Something has come up. I think you should come see me so we can talk about it.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“As I said, I think it would be better for us to chat face-to-face,” Lindiwe says.

“Okay, you’re scaring me now. Please just tell me what it is or else I’ll only imagine something worse.”

Lindiwe sighs deeply and then clears her throat. “Okay. The thing is . . . I’m looking at Mandla’s medicals . . .”

“Yes?”

“And . . . we have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Ruth, but Mandla has tested positive for HIV.”

“Oh my God.”

No, please no.

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