Welcome to Our Hillbrow: A Novel of Postapartheid South Africa

The Returnee

Hillbrow: The Map 115 The Returnee R efilwe returned home in September of 1999, a year after her departure from our Hillbrow and Tiragalong. She returned, as they say, with a degree in her bag. Troubled by her rapid deterioration. Swearing to herself that she would soon join her beloved Refents̆e in Heaven to await the coming of the other Bone of her Heart. As soon as her Nigerian had learnt about his illness, he had bid Refilwe goodbye in order to go and waste away at home, in Nigeria. He would have loved to come back with Refilwe to our Hillbrow and Tiragalong. But he did not want to become someone else’s burden. Refilwe, for her part, was torn between going with him to Nigeria and returning to our The Returnee 115 116 Welcome To Our Hillbrow Hillbrow and Tiragalong. She wanted to die here at home, to be buried in the sun-scorched lands of the Northern Province that was filled with dry grass and tree leaves turned white, like bleached bones. She wanted to be laid to rest in our Tiragalong, even if it meant exiting this world amidst the ignorant talk of people who turned diseases into crimes. She knew, as Lerato had known, that it was difficult for a woman to face her friends, colleagues and the whole community, and say her name, when they all judged her to be just a loose pair of thighs with voracious appetite – thighs in search of wandering penises to come and caress them. Now it was her turn to be the accused. She now was the one over whom the gods and devils of Tiragalong would sit in judgement. But Refilwe had also learnt in her difficulties to look at life from many sides. It was not just Tiragalong and Hillbrow, but our Nigerian brother . . . Refents̆e . . . her J9 friends . . . and many other people who formed part of her consciousness. These other voices within her consciousness told her that there were those who loved her still. For them, she would try to live as long as she could. She did not want them to have to suffer the pain that she had suffered, of wondering what they could have done, or not done, said or not said, to keep her from exiting this life prematurely. She thought deeply about Refents̆e at this time. She thought of him doing his spectacular jump from the twentieth floor in Van der Merwe street, after he had chosen his Lekwerekwere woman over her. She understood now that there were many ways of dying, Hillbrow: The Map 117 that the choice between suicide and life was not merely a choice between stupidity and intelligence, that sometimes , when people threw their own life away, it was because they were intelligent and courageous enough to see and admit that they did not own this life. She thought of her own vow that she would soon join her Refents̆e and the other Bone of her Heart in Heaven. But it would not be through suicide. Her mind was not ready to give up the fight. She thought of the Dark Chamber, beckoning to her seductively from six feet under the Earth. And she said: No, I am not going in there yet . . . But she also knew in her heart that she was finished already. When she and her Nigerian were told that they had AIDS, they were also given to know that they had both been HIV-positive for a long time. Refilwe, in particular, must have been infected for a decade or so. Except that she had not known that. So when the disease struck, it seemed that it came suddenly, with no warning. It came with the speed of lightning and was just as fatal. The cold, damp weather of Oxford, as well as her brooding concern about her loved ones at home, did not make her life any easier. Her brooding was as bad as the encroaching English autumn weather; just as bad as all the ailments that did the rounds in her body. With such a concoction of ailments, bad weather and brooding, Refilwe knew she had to be finished quickly. When she arrived at Johannesburg International Airport, where her family and friends had gathered to welcome her, she wondered whether she could brave The Returnee 118 Welcome To Our Hillbrow the keen grief in their...