CHAPTER SEVENTEEN A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

 

A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A GIRL FROM EHOMBA MOUNTAIN WHO WANTS TO ACHIEVE SOMETHING

From the Mountain to the City Lights

As soon as I heard what had happened to Tjipaa, I jumped out of bed and started dressing quickly. It was already late, so I had to ask my aunt to allow me to go to the hospital. I went to her room and woke her up.

I was sure she would scold me for disturbing her, but after I explained the call from Tjipaa’s mother, she surprised me.

She offered to drive me there herself.

When we arrived at the hospital, my aunt told me she would wait in the car. She did not really know Tjipaa or her mother well, but she asked me to let her know if Tjipaa’s condition improved.

That night, I saw another side of my aunt.

I had always thought she was hard and selfish, a woman who only cared about herself. That was the image my family back home had created for me. But the way she cared that night made me question everything I had been told about her.

I went inside the hospital and searched for Tjipaa’s room.

When I reached the first floor, I found Tjipaa’s mother standing in the corridor.

“I am sorry to hear about Tjipaa, ma’am,” I said. “How is she doing?”

“Muuaa, I am so glad you came,” she said. “Tjipaa is in critical condition. The doctors are with her right now.”

Then she started crying so badly that I had to comfort her, even though I myself did not know what to do.

“This is all my fault,” she said. “I know she is a good girl, but today I pushed her too hard. When we got home, we argued. She locked herself in her room. Later, when the maid went to call her for dinner, she found her lying on the floor. My daughter tried to kill herself. She overdosed on pills.”

My heart sank.

What could have pushed Tjipaa so far that she wanted to end her life?

After a while, the doctor came out and spoke to Tjipaa’s mother.

Her face changed immediately.

Then he said words that brought both of us relief.

“Her condition is stable now,” he said. “We managed to pump out the pills and give her medicine to restore her strength. You may see her, but only briefly. She needs to rest.”

Tjipaa’s mother went in first.

I stayed outside for a little while because I knew she needed a mother-and-daughter moment before I could enter.

While I waited, I took out my phone and tried calling Ndjona-Top.

Of course, her phone was off.

She had already told me she would switch it off so she could “please her man.”

By now, my cousin no longer shocked me, but I was still disturbed by many things she did. Really, who sleeps with a man on the first day they meet him, no matter how well he treats her?

Still, I expected nothing less from her anymore.

After some time, Tjipaa’s mother came out and said, “She is asking for you.”

I went inside.

As soon as I entered, Tjipaa asked me to close the door and come sit next to her. She looked weak, fragile, and frightened. Her hands were shaking, and her voice was soft.

“Muuaa,” she whispered, “please do something for me. Go to my house and into my room. I left a note there. Please get it before my mother finds it. It will break her heart if she reads it. And Muuaa, under no circumstances must you read that note. Please just bring it back to me.”

I was not sure whether I wanted to involve myself in another family secret.

But how could I refuse her?

She was in such a vulnerable state, and after all, I had promised to stand by my Diva sisters whenever they needed me.

She asked where Ndjona-Top was, and I told her she was with Mr Kiswahili. Just as I was about to ask how I would get into the house, her mother came back in.

At once, Tjipaa pretended to be asleep.

I stood up to leave and told her mother, “Tjipaa said she is fine. I think she just wanted a friend near her. She is a strong young woman, just like the doctor said. She is a fighter.”

As I was leaving, Tjipaa’s mother held my hand and walked me outside the room.

“Are you sure that is all she said?” she asked. “For a long time now, I have felt that something was wrong with my daughter, but I could never understand what it was. Tonight has confirmed my suspicions. Please, if you know anything, tell me. I need to know what is hurting my daughter.”

I was in no position to betray Tjipaa’s trust.

So I lied.

Again.

“No, ma’am,” I said. “I really do not know anything. I have only known Tjipaa for a short time. As far as I know, she is a good person. I do not know what could be troubling her.”

Then she asked, “Okasena yoye iri pi?”
(Okasena yoye iri pi? means “Where is your cousin?”)

I told her Ndjona-Top was probably sleeping because she was studying for a test and had switched off her phone.

Then I asked, “Why not speak to Tjipaa yourself? Maybe she will open up to you.”

Her mother sighed.

“My daughter has been emotionally distant from me for a long time,” she said. “I think because we had money, we spent too much time enjoying it and not enough time with each other.”

I felt bad for her.

She was clearly hurting, and I was doing very little to help. But I could not betray Tjipaa.

I tried calling Ndjona-Top again, but her phone was still off. At that moment, Tjipaa needed her, and I did not think anything else should matter. Yet there she was, somewhere out there, milking another man with her body.

My aunt came to check on me and found me saying goodbye to Tjipaa’s mother. She greeted her politely and introduced herself as my aunt. They had a short conversation about Tjipaa’s condition, and then my aunt and I left.

On the way home, my aunt spoke gently.

“Muuaa, what your friend tried to do is very sad,” she said. “Her mother says they argued, and she lost control. I want you to know something. You are a good child. If you are honest with me and behave yourself, I will take care of you.”

Again, I saw another side of my aunt, a kind and protective side that was completely different from the woman my family had described.

She went to her room, and I stood there thinking.

How was I supposed to go to Tjipaa’s house now?

It was already after midnight, and I did not want to sneak out again. But did I really have a choice?

I could not ask my aunt.

Tjipaa needed that note before her mother found it.

So I waited until my aunt had fallen asleep.

Then, using the same ninja tactics Ndjona-Top had taught me on my very first day in Windhoek, I quietly slipped out of the house.

Since there were no taxis around, I had to call someone.

So I called Mbaa.

He came in less than ten minutes.

He did not ask many questions, which made me feel grateful.

On the drive, he could tell something was wrong, but he remained calm.

“I just hope you will be okay, Vemuu,” he said. “Whatever is troubling you, know that I will be here for you.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “It really means a lot.”

When we arrived at Tjipaa’s house, I asked Mbaa to wait in the car.

The house had a very high wall and a huge gate, and I had no idea how I was going to get inside.

So I threw small stones onto the roof of one of the guest rooms where the maids sometimes slept.

Luckily, the maid was there.

“What is going on, my child?” she asked. “Why are you throwing stones on the roof?”

I had to lie.

I told her Tjipaa needed some clothes and her toothbrush from home.

She was a gentle old woman, so she let me in.

“Oh, I just hope that poor child is alright,” she said. “Okanatje ngo kamuna ouzeu okuza rukuru.”
(Okanatje ngo kamuna ouzeu okuza rukuru means “That child has been suffering for a long time.”)

Then she added, “If only her mother knew what was really going on. I pray to God she survives, because she deserves another chance to live a better life.”

Those words stayed with me.

What did she know that I did not?

That question stayed at the back of my mind.

I rushed upstairs to Tjipaa’s room, hoping to find the note quickly and leave before her mother returned from the hospital.

But when I entered the room, I froze.

Tjipaa’s mother was sitting there on the bed, holding Tjipaa’s teddy bear and some clothes she had packed for her.

I had not expected that at all.

I was caught off guard and had no proper explanation for why I was there so late.

So I said the first thing that came to my mind:

“Tjipaa asked me to come get her teddy bear.”

Even as I said it, I knew it sounded foolish.

She looked at me and asked me to sit down.

“Vemuu,” she said, “I know you have not known my daughter for very long, but I also know the two of you have become close. Tjinangara una tji motjiwa tji mumonu okutja meso okutjiwa okutja Tjipaa wanu ozopera…”
(It means: “If you know anything that you think I should know — for example that Tjipaa takes pills, please tell me.”)

She was desperate.

Her soul was in pain.

I almost broke.

I almost told her everything.

But then the Ozondjona-ozo-Top vow came back to me. I had promised never to betray my sisters.

So instead of telling her the full truth, I told her a lie mixed with a little truth.

“Aunty,” I said, “I do not really know what is troubling Tjipaa. But I know she was dating a student called Nashi, and they broke up. That may be why she was drinking today. But I do not think that is why she tried to kill herself. She is stronger than that, and she is too smart to take her life over a boy.”

I do not know whether she truly believed me, but she accepted it.

Then she said she was going to freshen up and later take Tjipaa’s clothes and the teddy bear to the hospital. She told me she would drop me home afterwards.

As soon as she left the room, I started searching.

I looked everywhere for the note.

I searched drawers, shelves, books, under the mattress, everywhere.

But I could not find it.

After several minutes, I gave up.

Then the maid came into the room and quietly closed the door behind her.

“I overheard what you and my boss were saying,” she said. “And I know you lied. Tjipaa is not heartbroken because of some boy. That poor girl’s soul is hurting.”

Then she added,

“Ovanatje vanambano ma mu teza ozondjira ozombi…”
(Ovanatje vanambano ma mu teza ozondjira ozombi means “Nowadays children are taking the wrong path.”)

“I hope one day you will tell the truth. The truth will always set you free.”

Then she pulled out a folded paper and handed it to me.

“This is what you are looking for. Tjipaa asked you to find it. But before you return it to her, you must read it. I found her unconscious in her room. After her mother took her to the hospital, I found this note. What is written in it is serious. You do not know what your friend is really going through. Please, talk to her and help her open up to her mother. Both of these women are suffering because of one man. Vevatera veye pamwe muatje wandje.”
(Vevatera veye pamwe muatje wandje means “Help them come together, my child.”)

Her words filled me with shame.

She was right.

I had no idea how deep Tjipaa’s pain really was.

I thanked her quietly, slipped the note into my hand, and left.

I told Tjipaa’s mother that I was going home because my cousin had come to collect me. By “cousin,” I meant Mbaa, who was waiting outside in the car.

She said it was fine, as long as I got home safely.

As soon as I got into Mbaa’s car, my hands began itching to open the note.

After what the maid had said, I could not stop thinking about it.

Mbaa was speaking to me, but I was not even listening properly.

Since Friday was Valentine’s Day, he asked whether I would be his partner.

I told him I would give him an answer before Friday.

When he dropped me off, I sneaked back into the house, silent as a mouse, and went straight to my room.

There I sat on the bed with Tjipaa’s note in my hands.

I opened it.

And I read.

It began:

“I am so sorry for doing what I had to do, but I could not take it anymore. I have failed my mother, and I am ashamed of what I did. I had an affair with my stepfather for five years…”

The note went on.

But it was the last part that completely broke my heart:

“…because of the affair with Papa Kille, I used up his money, the money he was supposed to use to pay the rent for the farm where he keeps his cattle. I never told anyone about it, but I spent all of it. Now I do not know what to do.
I am just so tired of all the drama in my life., Tjipaa”

My heart sank.

Everything suddenly made sense.

And at the same time, everything became heavier.

The End of Chapter Seventeen

Watch out for Part Eighteen as A Girl from Ehomba Mountain Who Wants to Achieve Something continues…