Captivity is painful smiles 🌻

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Zolani
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I don't care how many years you've been going through it. Your body never gets used to the hard life. Tough stays tough and hard stays freaking hard.

It had been two weeks into the hell called prison and I slept on the cement floor like a dog in the dark. The cold water we showered with still jolted my sore bones like electricity.

The taunting, the humiliation and the beating all still sucked. I was covered in bruises and wounds so much so that I forgot how I looked without them.

Lebo was taunted and teased in front of me daily because Tiger enjoyed getting a rise out of me.

It was one week into prison when Lebo’s arm was almost dislocated from how Dumisani twisted it while he laughed his head off. I had  had enough at that moment and was ready to get Lebo out of the situation.

Through the immense pain he was in Lebo told me to stay where I was and that he could take it.

When would I ever get used to this?

I knew that there was one thing I would never get used to. The visits. Especially that first official visit, on April  the 30th.

The men of cell twenty eight gathered around a bed, discussing something in hushed tones. Tiger did most of the talking,his dark gaze always flicking back to me as he smoked.

Lebo and I found out that they weren't just random prisoners but that they were a   gang. One of the most feared ones in Glendale prison.

They were the 28s.

A ruthless and  lethal gang that had been going strong for fifteen years. Tiger was the leader of it all. They had connections from the other cells, outside the prison and even with a few wardens.

Dread filled my heart from that day forward.

I was sitting in the corner of my cell, keeping to myself. Well, at least trying to.

Lebo sat right next to me, talking to me in hushed whispers about his life outside of prison. His big eyes would go wide at the exciting parts and he laughed at his own jokes while I just sat there.

I was still in extreme pain. Pain from the beatings and sleeping on a cold cement floor for three days. Every movement I made with my body hurt. I held back a groan each time but sometimes when the pain was too much, a small groan escaped my lips.

When that happened, Tiger would look my way, amused.

Lebo continued talking my ears off.

“—but my grandmother would never allow that.” He finished the nth story.

I had no clue what he was talking about half the time but it always involved his grandmother or grandfather.

That guy really loved his grandparents. They would be included in almost every conversation he made.

It was annoying. I don't think anyone loved their grandparents that much but I wouldn't know since all I had was my mother.

Lebo stayed quiet for another moment. He looked at our fellow cellmates who were still huddled in a group. The fear in his eyes was clear but there was also a growing hardness in his features.

He looked away, staring at the cement floor.

I was glad that he had stopped talking.

"I think we're in that stage of our friendship where we can tell each other what we're in for."

"I'm not your friend." I quickly shut him down.

I just felt sorry for him but he wasn't my friend. I didn't have any friends.

"Come on. Tell me. I promise I won't judge." He paused. " I didn't go to school for it."

Lebo chuckled at his own joke and the pain in my ribs intensified.

"Stop talking please."

"Come on, tell me.” His lips curled into a smile. “ Did you kiss the president? Steal a cow?Eat without praying."

Could anyone be more immature?

“Worse.” I answered, Lebo's eyes widened, his interest peaked.

“I did all three of those things.” 

The smile on my face was faint but judging from the lightness in Lebo's eyes, he noticed it.

A much needed silence ensued, I could finally feel my pain in silence. It felt like my eye was pulsing from the punch I got to the face.

"I'm ready to tell you mine." Lebo uttered softly.

"Keep it to yourself. I'm not interested.”

He opened his mouth to say more but was interrupted by the clanging of the warden's baton on the bars of the cell.

All eyes in cell twenty eight turned to the warden. “Inmate 3623! You have a visitor!”

“Kill me now,” I muttered, frozen in place.

It felt like the load on my shoulders dropped to my stomach. My heartbeat rose to an erratic rhythm as all eyes turned to look at me, including Lebo.

“Are you deaf! I said you have a visitor.”

I got to my feet, holding back the groan from the pain in my ribs. To get to the cell’s opening I had to pass Tiger and his gang. They made way for me, their stares burning holes through my clothes.

“Enjoy yourself, Hero.” Tiger said, making the others laugh for some reason.

“We'll be waiting for you.” Tiger continued in a lower tone.

As the warden led me down the hallway my heart was a heavy rock. My bones cried as I walked more than I could, trying to keep up with the warden's pace.

All I could think about were the bruises on my face, and the pain in my ribs. All of those things which Zoey and my mother would notice once they laid eyes on me.

I wasn't ready to see them.

I thought about denying the visit. Telling the warden that I didn't want to see them but my heart wouldn't allow it.

We passed through many black gates that locked us deeper away from  life. When I finally stepped foot in the visiting area, my eyes searched for my mother and Zoey.

The visiting area was a  wide room, covered in a dull grey colour with wardens stationed on all corners while one of them walked around the place.

The tables were hard built in metal tables along with similar bench chairs. The room was filled with light chatter, women and children talked with their locked up relatives.

“Zolani!”

I turned my head to the sound of Zoey's voice. I spotted her, a few tables away, waving her hand in the air.

A smile curved up my lips as I made my way towards my family. The ice rock that had been my heart for days melted into a puddle the moment my mother met me halfway and pulled me in for a hug.

Her scent engulfed me, familiar and comforting.I felt my eyes burn with tears. She tightened her hold on me, hurting my bruised body but I did not have the heart to tell her to stop, instead I held her just as tight.

I felt my shoulder dampen with my mother's tears and it tore at my heart. She pulled away, giving me those warm smiles of hers that made me feel I was still a little kid.

That warm smile that made me believe even just for a second that everything was going to be more than alright.

And then her smile faltered as she took me in. Her brown eyes darted to every bruise from my eye to my lips and my cheeks.

“Zolani.” My name on her lips sounded like a tragedy.

I hung my head low.

My mother turned around like she couldn't look at me anymore. She walked back from where she came from, taking a  seat back on the metal bench beside Zoey.

Zoey's  similar eyes met mine  and just like my mother, her smile was gone.

She stood up slowly. I made my way towards them and I pulled my sister in for a hug, immediately a sound like a sob escaped her chest.

She hugged me just as tight but there was something more desperate about her hold on me. When she pulled away I could see no tears in sight but the smile she gave me was pained.

I felt this tightness in my heart as my heart pulsed in a compressed way like it has no space to breathe and I knew that's how she felt right then.

“Come sit down, bantwana bam.” My mother gestured to the  seats.

Zoey sat beside my mother while I took the seat across from them. They had this white visiting card hung around their neck just like all the other visitors around here.

“What happened?” My mother's eyes held mine in place.

“I fell.”

She scoffed. “What type of fall was this Zolani?”

“A bad one.”

“Don't act smart with me? Zoey, you see that your brother's acting smart with me.”

We both turned to look at Zoey, but she had her head hung low, staring at her lap.

“Zoey!” My mother's irritation flashed.

Zoey  snapped out of a  daze, turning her head to my mother. She wordlessly held my mother's gaze for a second  before turning to me.

Her eyes didn't exactly hold my face. In fact Zoey's face was scrunched, her eyes looking strained as she held my eyes.

And only my eyes. Until she couldn't any longer, she cast her gaze past me.

“It's obvious that they beat him, mama.”

I didn't want to talk about this.

“It's nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious? Nothing serious?” My mother scoffed, “ Where were the wardens when this happened? Where—”

“Twenty five minutes left.” I cut my mother off.

A painful silence ensued.

“ I've got twenty five minutes left with you and then I've got to wait weeks later for another thirty minute visit when I see you again. I don't want to talk about this.”

My mother exhaled, the bags under her eyes emphasizing her weariness. “I've got only thirty minutes every two weeks to find out how my son is doing. To find out if he's eating well, sleeping or hurting. To find out—”she stops herself, breathing.

“Don't take this away from me Zolani.I’m still your mother, no matter what.”

No matter what, her last words echoed.

No matter that I was in prison.

No matter that I failed grade eleven because I was taken to juvenile prison and I was missing my grade twelve year.

No matter that I was a murderer.

She was still my— “Mama.”

Her eyes warmed at the sound of my voice, she stretched her hand on the table leaving it open for me to hold. With not even a second of hesitation I reached to entwine my mother's warm hands with my calloused ones.

“I worry about you,” she said.

I worry about me too, I felt like saying.

“Are you hurt?” Zoey asked, her brown eyes swept over the bruises on my face, and it's like she could see the pain in my bones.

I  took hold of Zoey's hand, entwining it with my free hand, squeezing gently.

“No.”

Zoey rolled her eyes, forcing her hand out of my grip but I held on tighter. She relented, casting her gaze away from my face.

“Are you sleeping well?” My mother spoke again. “Hopefully the beds are not too hard. I heard the beds here are uncomfortable.”

I felt like laughing, bitterly.

Hard beds…what a  luxury.

“They're okay.”

My mother nodded, a faint smile on her lips.

“ The food, is it a lot. Does it—”

“It's good. It's okay.”

But it wasn't home made, with the secret ingredients being love and care.

It wasn't slow cooked with delicious flavour, instead it was bland and boring.

It wasn't cooked by my mother.

My mother proceeded to ask more questions and I answered with comfortable lies that would make her sleep at night. It was better that way. It was better, I told myself.

And eventhough I answered with not even a second of hesitation or stuttering through my words, Zoey's burning gaze felt like it burnt up my lies.

She stayed silent through it all, knowing full well that I was lying.

I believe that some part of my mother knew that I was lying too. It was prison after all, the worst was what you got and pain was guaranteed like a special punch to the gut.

But she chose to believe in my comfortable lies. She took comfort in them and that's why I gave it to her.

When my mother seemed to have run out of questions, she seemed relieved, breathing easier.

She held my gaze, kissing my hand that was intertwined with hers.

“Happy belated birthday, Zolani.”

Her words almost made me melt and cry like the little boy I always became when she was around.

“Thank you.”

“We'll celebrate it when you get out of here.” She added, then. “Because you're getting out of here, you hear that Zolani?”

A pause ensued, I felt my chest constrict.

“I do.” I whispered, holding in the tears.

“You're not staying here. I won't allow it. My son will make it out of this place.”

“Happy belated birthday to you too, Zoey.” I smiled, wincing with the pain.

Zoey smiled, her eyes warm. She held my hand tighter, with both her hands.

“Thank you, Zolani. Happy belated birthday to you.”

“Did you atleast enjoy your birthday? I know mama always manages to make those days special, no matter what's going on.”

Zoey stilled, glancing at my mother for a second, but my mother didn't meet her eyes.

The odd moment didn't fly past me, I noticed that they weren't holding each other's hands.

Zoey turned,  her lips curving into a broader smile but there was no gleam in it.

“I did.” She told me.

“I need the bathroom. I’ll leave you two to talk.” My mother stood up abruptly, she turned before I could see the tears in her eyes, falling on her cheeks.

I watched her leave, walking past the metal tables, and a warden led my mother away from me and all I could was watch.

Turning to Zoey, I gave her a smile, hiding the wince.

“How many minutes left?”

“Ten. Seven, maybe less.”

She nodded, and I could just see how hard she was thinking. She tried, as best she could just like she did when she visited me in juvenile prison to think of all the significant things she wanted to talk to me about, to share all she wanted, to  express all she felt within a compressed time frame.

And Zoey was victorious in all she set out to do. With an abnormal speed that made me laugh, she told me all about her life, everything I missed, everything that would interest me.

I told her a long time ago that I was interested in the details, that prison was so boring, anything that happened out there in the real world was vastly entertaining.

Zoey filled me in with the details of her life, and it felt like I was still a part of it, like I was out there with her.

Head girl duties and drama as well as the dragging responsibilities. The girls at school. Asanda and Mariam. This game she called WW- I don't know the rest. Miss Matthieu, a teacher at school she loved.

Her random shower thoughts. Her latest favourite song, the weirdest thing she saw.

Through it all, the two of us found laughter again. It was this soft, sweet short laughter that escaped our lips and for a moment we felt like kids again.

I would take my duties as her brother and poke fun at her, give her nicknames I know she hated and remind her of those embarrassing moments.

We were laughing again, about this particular joke. I forgot what it was but it hurt the most to smile then. So much so, I had to pause and breathe, my ribs were tense with the strained pain.

Zoey watched everything closely.

“It hurts to smile” I  confessed to the reason why I had been wincing so much.

Zoey tried to smile, hers looked pained as well, but her wounds went deeper than skin. “It hurts to see you smile.”

The two of us shared a short laugh that was cut short with a sigh.

“It hurts to hope.” Zoey said after a moment her eyes were not meeting mine.

I didn't have anything to say to that, except to witness the evidence of her statement that rang true.

Every bruise, and wound on my skin, every pang and shock in my heart, every memory that taunted my soul.

“—But I guess the pain reminds us that we're still alive, even after everything.”

“Even though we feel dead inside.”

Zoey winced at my words, hurt flashing in her eyes.

The silence overtook us.

I think we had only two minutes left.

Zoey's hold on my hand, tightened, like she wouldn't let them take me away even when our time was up.

“I saw this man step out of the prison—”

And because I knew where the conversation was heading, I pulled my hand away from hers, releasing a frustrated breath.

She looked hurt, but she didn't let it sway her. “He was like the sun, Zolani. His freedom is proof that -

“ Zoey stop!” I slammed my hand on the table, wincing at the sound, at the attention it brought, at the look in her eyes.

“Fourteen years, Zoey.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, not wanting to face the truth.

“That's how much time I'm going to spend here. Look around you Zoey, look at this place. Do you think this is where dreams, or hope or even life is?”

Her silence answered.

“I've accepted my fate Zoey and maybe you should too. It would hurt less than way.”

“Times up!” a voice called, draining life from my soul.

Zoey's expression fell, she opened and closed her mouth but no words tumbled out.

“Goodbye,” I smiled at her, even though it hurt.

A warden was at my side, roughly pulling me up, telling me my time was up, that I couldn't talk to my loved ones anymore.

Zoey watched as the warden escorted me out, with my hands chained and my head hung low.

“Risk it all!” Zoey shouted, when I was tables away.

A warden was telling her to be quiet but she paid the woman no attention.

“Risk it all Zolani and hope again!” Zoey belted, the tears gathering in her eyes. “Even though it hurts.”

And because I was the cause of the commotion, the warden who escorted me shoved me into the hallway, away from Zoey's line of sight.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe, her words penetrated my heart, reminding me of my father. It was his words,  the same words that I'd been pushing past because it hurt to even remember them.

“No.” I shook my head, blocking out any hope that tried to seep in, and break me even further.

“I'm sorry Zoey. I just can't. I've got nothing else to risk anyway.”

And the warden, who was leading me to myself, held this smirk on his face.

He thought my misery, my pain was laughable, it brought a glint of humour to his eyes.

That was my reality. The bruises, the pain, the wardens and prisons, and that ugly colour orange.

The hard life, that rebuilt my back, brick from brick, leaving me burdened.

As I walked towards my cell, I limped, every step I took, still hurt, my body hadn't gotten used to the pain.

So maybe my body didn't get used to the hard life but my heart did. My heart welcomed misery like a friend. My heart didn't just hold sorrow or pain but it was made up of it.

It was made up of all the broken parts.