( Speaking Xhosa)
To fetch the missing ones is to risk touching their blood with your hands. To return them to the land of their people. To plant a tree at the entrance of a ruin. To build a home where others may also find rest.
There is no escaping the smell of igwele when you enter the room. Ngelanga lam lokufa, they wash the tears of my goat in the river. I weep for the blood on the straw mat. And the white sheet that is now stained. When they wash my daughter, she is smiling. I am told she is swimming. She is not afraid of ubaba. I am not afraid of ubaba. I am no longer waiting for a shoe to drop.
In a cave during a prayer in the middle of the night, a pride of men circle us in song. One of them stands directly above me preparing isinafu Ubaba says I will not go home until I heal. I will not heal without him. Injury to one is injury to all.
I remember that before she was born, my daughter was circled by a pride of wild cats licking her face. She was smiling.
( Speaking Xhosa)
Umakhulu lost her life to fear. Umakazi’ s cough is not healed, but the rain forces her to rest. To wait for the cooling of isidudu while being cared for. To see ubaba working is to see my father alive again. To hear him apologize. To see my grandmother return to her kindness. To watch the land return to the sky and the birds gather with branches in their mouths.
( Speaking Xhosa)