So... grab a bowl of popcorn or a glass of wine or do whatever it is that you guys do when you’re really just looking for something, anything, to do for entertainment when the house is empty and the TV is boring and are about to read. Although I really hope that’s not why you read. I hope you read because you know there has got to be more to it than just entertainment, I hope you know there are some people who spend hours that lead to days that lead to months and sometimes years, trying to pour their hearts out by sharing bits and pieces of their lives. This is a piece of my life, this is my story.
I came to Johannesburg to study medicine at the Witwatersrand University and nothing and no one was going to stop me from getting my degree, no party, no friend and especially no girl was going to interfere with my perfectly planned future. I was so adamant in this that I spent the first two years without a close friend or a girlfriend. I was happy and I was very close to graduating, two more years, and I couldn’t think of anything else but how great it was going to be to see my parents proud of me. I was going to graduate cum laude style, nothing below it. I really couldn’t relate to some of the struggle stories Witsies were in the habit of sharing. Varsity for me was a breeze. Little did I know that life was looking at me and laughing at me. It was almost as if I could see the smirk on life’s face when everything started changing for the worst.
I had one subject in particular that, “according” to my lecturer, I was struggling with. He then suggested I get a tutor to help me out and recommended the best one. Honestly, I didn’t understand why because I was doing very well considering the fact that I didn’t even like it that much in the first place. So I succumbed. Her name was Rachael Dlamini, a mixture of Zulu, and English. How that was possible, still beats me to this day but from the short stories (short because I made her cut them), she for some weird reason enjoyed telling me about how her parents met, to how much they loved each other and about everything they did together and I concluded she was a hopeless romantic. Her romantic side definitely had to have been from her mother’s side. I cannot imagine a pure Zulu woman as romantic and maybe I’m a bit ignorant for this opinion but guess what, I’m keeping it until it’s proven otherwise. I grew to enjoy our study sessions and she had a way of explaining things to me in a way that I just got. Man, she was slick with the tongue. I started noticing how cute she was and how her eyes would fill with a bit of tears every time she smiled at me and all of a sudden I couldn’t stop thinking about her day and night. There was just something about that smile that made me feel like life couldn’t get any better than that. Thinking about it calmed me in my most stressful moments. I knew right there and then that I was falling for her and I needed her to at least like me too.
Boys liked him a lot and to be honest I was bit jealous and I think she picked it up because we were kind of like chums now, always hanging out together but she never really threw any signs of interest my way...at least not in that way so every time a man greeted her with a smile and tried to flirt I’d ask if he was one of them (she knew what I meant). Now thinking about it, I think she liked it, making and seeing me jealous. The more time we spent together the more I fell for her and it killed me thinking that the chances of her being interested in me were very slim seeing as I wasn’t a 10 or anything and she was a whole 20. I’m not exaggerating. So I tried very hard to forget about her and lucky for me, the second term of the first semester of my third year was done and my lecturer was impressed with my improved results. That meant I needed not to meet with her again and honestly, as much as it hurt I was glad I didn’t have to be that close to her without being able to touch her like I would have
liked to and even kiss her. Yes I wanted to kiss her so bad and oh my goodness this is so
embarrassing.
I was 21 years old I had never had a girlfriend, let alone been kissed so this was still kind of a big
deal to me okay. I went home for the holidays and came back having not heard from her. For some
silly reason I hoped she would call just to check up on me and to find out how it went with my tests
but she never did and my ego would not allow me to do the calling. It would have seemed
desperate of me. One very boring Monday morning I decided to go to the library to make some
notes after class and the very first face my eyes met was her's. She saw me so I couldn’t run back even
though I thought of it. There it was, the most beautiful smile I had ever seen on a woman, drawing me
in and pulling me close and the first words she uttered were “ I missed you so much”. She hugged me
so tight that I could feel her heart beat against my chest. I was overwhelmed. I was overjoyed but I
didn’t know what that meant. After recollecting myself I was a bit embarrassed
because my cheeks started to turn pink. I giggled a bit and tried to make the
conversation as casual as possible but there was nothing casual about the moment we just had. It
was beautiful, it was desperate and it resurrected the feelings I had for her, feelings I thought I had
buried well. I avoided eye contact at all cost, I was afraid she would see right through me and before
She could, I needed to know that she wanted me as bad as I wanted her otherwise I was going to have
to spend more of my nights digging a grave deep enough to burry these feelings all over again and
this time for good. It was as if she was in my head, as if it was too late for me and it was almost as if a
sense of emergency fell on her and she knew it was then or never so they came out, not intended but
She said the words I would cherish for the rest of my life. “I love you Issac" she said. I needed to make sure
She was aware of what she just said to me and believed it because I couldn’t and she said it over and
over again and we hugged for about a minute and finally, I got my kiss. She was so honoured to be my
first
The first 6 months of our relationship were great. Of course we had our ups and downs as they
called them but honestly, she was the woman of my dreams. We understood each other and we knew
we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together even though her parents didn’t like me a bit. Her
mom wanted her to get mmarried to a white man and her father would do anything to please her mother. My parents on the other hand were just happy I was almost done
with varsity and they really liked Rachael because she was helping me pass (not that I needed her for
this) instead of getting me knocked up.
I proposed and she said yes. We had a joint account
where we were saving our money and because she was already working in Cape Town, we saw it a
perfect plan for me to work there too. Our future was planned and we were happy. I graduated and
got an internship in Johannesburg after declining an offer from my lecturer’s friend in London
because I was not about to go overseas and leave my baby. She didn’t want me to go either and that
made me feel even more wanted by her. Nothing was gonna separate us and I trusted her with my
life. She really loved me and she was a woman of her word and tried her very best to keep her promises. I
was the luckiest man on the planet.
It was a Saturday morning when I got a call from her father, a call that would change my life forever,
that Rachael had been in an accident and that she was at the Johannesburg National Hospital. I didn’t
wait for him to finish, I quickly rushed over to the hospital. I was so scared on my way there, and for
the very first time I had such an intimate moment with God. Asking Him to spare my lover’s life and
that if He did, I would do anything He wanted me to do. After saying Amen, I drove as fast as I
possibly could and got to the hospital in less than 10 minutes. On a good day, it takes me about 15
minutes to get there but today wasn’t like any other day. It was the day that would decide my lover’s
fate. I get there and I see her parents with a man I had never seen before. He was tall, masculine
and was white and her father seemed to like this man “ He's probably his half brother”, I said to
myself.”But she would have told me if she had one” I brush the thought off. I was going to walk
towards them and I was going to ask them to take me to my fiancé and I didn’t care that he didn’t
like me and so I did. As we stood there with them and the Doctor trying to calm me down, after what
felt like 5 minutes the nurse asked for his mom and “Nathaniel”. Nathaniel, who’s Nathaniel?” I ask and the
father looks at him as he follows Rachael's mother into her room. Now I’m angry, now I’m pissed and
I want to see my fiancé but no one wants to let me. What is going on and who is Nathaniel? I ask her
father but he’s failing to answer my question. My stomach starts turning, my mind starts whispering
things that would turn me into a mad black man.
Finally I manage to break my way in and there
She was, lying there, holding this man’s hand. My Rachael is holding his hand. Why? Her mom had
a smirk on the face and I started to smell blood. I knew what that meant, it meant I was gonna hurt
her but I had more important things to deal with first so I shifted my focus. “Baby, are you okay?” I
said as I removed Nathaniel's hand from her. “Are you okay? Who is this, is he your brother ?” it goes
quiet for a moment and she’s looking at me and she seems confused, she’s looking at me like she does
not recognize me at all. As the realization registers in my mind I start throwing a tantrum and crying
and forcing her to remember me. She has to remember me. We have a life waiting for us to live,
together. I was going crazy and the doctor came in to explain that my fiancé has suffered long term
memory loss and they were not sure if she could get it back. I know what death feels like because at
that moment I died, on the inside.
The mother was sure to let me know that Nathaniel was the man she used to date in high school and that
She only remembers him. She called me uncivilised and ratchet and Rachael said nothing. This got me
fuming. My Rachael wouldn’t let her get away with this, if anything, my Rachael didn’t like her either.
I jumped on her and strangled her and so these stupid men threw me out. She looked at me, Rachael,
like she felt sorry for me and that look broke my heart. It tore me apart. And now I’m sitting here, in
our cold apartment and she’s not here to keep me warm. I’m on my fifth glass of wine and I don’t
know what to do. I’m really hoping you can tell me what to do... I need to get her back.