A DAY IN MY LIFE: HOME EDITION 

A Saturday morning, my bed facing the east, so the sun rays hit my face directly from the window. I could feel the bright and warmth of the sun or rather yellow hue on my skin. I just got home around the a.m.'s from a friends party the previous night. The curtains not closed so the sun decided to let its self in. As I am fighting a pulsating headache from the cocktails and my body feeling like I got by a truck lethargic and numb all I could hear is my mother's raspy and hoarse voice singing a song by Seal called kiss from a rose. That's when I knew the day has begun.   

I had no plans of waking up but the redolent smell of amagwinya (fat cakes) that my mom makes on weekends got me out of those sheets. As i sing along to the RnB playlist my feet hit the ground. I slowly make my bed and arranging the linen as my fingers run through the smooth fabric pf the sheets. I thought oh I should shower as I drag my half dead body to the shower to freshen up before heading down for breakfast. I stood in the shower washing off the grit from last night, giving my fatigued body some vitality. Wrapped the shower then went on an adventure of my cluttered wardrobe to decide on what exactly to wear. Ended up decided on an elegant and sophisticated summer dress. As I walk to the kitchen to have the breakfast I have been whiffing the whole morning.

I get to the kitchen, and it smells crispy and savory. I greet the whole family, and all were staring at me like a mad woman who is ready to put a show. My brother leans in on me to look closely at my upper neck. Only to find out the is a hickey on my neck. The atmosphere in the kitchen changed from roses to a corpse flower in a split second. From the RnB mood to being lectured about pregnancy at a young age. My father leading the discussion was worse. I would not hear the end of it. My mother appointing my brothers to escort me everywhere was the cherry to the cake, all of a sudden I was danger to myself with just a hickey. Breakfast table was bitter and the only that made up for it was the hot golden brown, soft bread like centre of amagwinya my mother made very delicious. What is a Zulu house without drama and fights in the morning.

After breakfast we all got in the car to visit my grandmother in Orange Farm a small township in Vaal. The car ride was unpleasant and depressing. I was born to stress my parents out because I am the only girl. They were reminiscing about the morning discussion we had at the breakfast table. The drive is 1 hour but it felt like the duration of the civil war. 

We finally got my grandmothers place, the was a young lunch with my aunts and cousins. The house felt like love I have not felt in a long time. It was so adoring and affectionate. My grandmother cooked all my traditional favorites from umgodu nojeqe (tripe and dumpling) to inyama yenhloko nophuthu (head meat and dry pap). The house smelled like the uShaka Zulu era. Music playing in the background, everyone on their feet dancing and kids running around the yard it all felt like fulfilment and contentment. 

My brothers briefed my other cousins about what happened in the morning, and I was called in to explain further. I wanted to burst into laughter, but I could see they are concerned about me and the fact that I have grown into a lady but also young to them. It all felt like a prosecution of a murder case, and it is just a hickey that would fade in a couple days but I understood where they were coimg from as older brothers.

With drama and the food that tasted so amazing, The day definately ended with kisses and hugs to our parents as me and my cousins decided on a sleepover at our grandmothers house to catch up more and bond. Grandmothers house always feels like a glue to hold us together. Every moment is always worth it