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The girl may walk with a heavy stride,With secrets kept and tears she’ll hide.She may lose the path in the morning dew,S...
24/04/2026

The girl may walk with a heavy stride,
With secrets kept and tears she’ll hide.
She may lose the path in the morning dew,
Searching for versions of someone new.
To fail as a girl is a soft-edged thing,
The tangled thread of a kite on a string—
The world will wait for her knees to mend,
For she has the luxury of time to spend.
​She can drop the torch, she can lose the race,
And hide away in a quiet place.
Her mistakes are written in fading ink,
Giving her room to pause and think.
For the bloom of youth is a trial run,
A dance of shadows before the sun.

-Yandisa KaMajoka Msane 🌸

Isiqephu Sokuqala: IsinqindiLalithule, lithule libe lincane emzini wakwaMacingwane. Isigodi saseNhlwathi eMdletsheni, en...
24/04/2026

Isiqephu Sokuqala: Isinqindi

Lalithule, lithule libe lincane emzini wakwaMacingwane. Isigodi saseNhlwathi eMdletsheni, endaweni yakwaHlabisa, sasilunywa ukuthula kwantambama. Ilanga lase lishona ngemuva kwezintaba zoMfolozi, lishiya isibhakabhaka sibomvu njengokungathi sichele igazi. Izinkomo zazilanda zibuyela esibayeni, ukukhonkotha kwamathole kuhlanganisa nokukhala kwezimpofu emthini womthombe. Iphunga lomlilo wokuqala wasebusika laligcwele umoya.

Kodwa ngaphakathi endlini enkulu yakwaMacingwane, kwakunomsindo omkhulu kunayo yonke - umsindo wenhliziyo yendoda.

UMandlenkosi wayehlezi ngamadolo phansi kombhoxo. Izandla zakhe zaziphumule emathangeni, kodwa iminwe yayidansa iyodwa njengokungathi idlala isigubhu esingabonwayo. Amehlo akhe ayegxile phansi, esaba ukubheka ngqo kulowo muntu owayehlezi esihlalweni sobukhosi bakhe - uyise.

UMacingwane. Indoda endala, umqolo ugobile wumthwalo weminyaka nezinkomo. Kodwa amehlo akhe ayesagqamile, ebukhali njengommese omusha. Ayefunda umfana wakhe njengokungathi ufunda amathambo omhlola.

“Baba,” kwagcina kuqhume izwi likaMandla. Laliklinya, liphukile. Wakhwehlela kancane, ezama ukulivusa. “Baba, nginendaba.”

UMacingwane akaphendulanga. Wavele wabheka ngaphandle ngefasitela, lapho intuthu yomlilo yayiphuma khona kwaManzini. Wasala ethule, elindele.

“Ekuhambeni kwami...” kwaqala uMandla futhi, izithukuthuku sezivele zimthoba ebunzini noma kwakubanda. “NgangiseThekwini. E-DUT. Ngenza izifundo zami njengoba wena wena wathi angiyozama. Ngahlangana khona nentokazi, Baba. Inkosazane yakwaDlamini, eyaseMandeni.”

Wathula kancane. Ubuso bakhe bashintsha. Ukwesaba kwaphela kwangena ukukhanya. “Ibizo layo nguZinhle. Yenza unyaka wesibili wobuhlengikazi. Baba, leyo ntokazi... ithobekile. Uma ihleka, uvele uzwe ukuthi ubusika sebuphelile. Izinyo layo lihleliwe, lihleka ngothotho lwamazinyo amhlophe njengegolide. Izitho zayo, Baba... ziyothulisa izintuli kwaMacingwane. Ingathi yisibani esikhanyisa ubumnyama enhliziyweni yami.”

Wavuka kancane, isifuba sigcwele umoya. “Baba, ngicela ungiqhubele phambili. Ngicela sithumele omalume bayongicelela. Isihlobo esihle lesi, Baba. Isihle ngapha koThukela.”

Wafaka isandla ephaketheni lebhatshi lakhe elidala. Wasikhipha isandla sinqikaza, wabe esesibeka phansi. “Baba, ngingakhipha konke enginakho. Uzuka nozuka okhona umfanele uZinhle. Sesazane izinyanga eziyisithupha. Ngiyathemba ukuthi iphelele le ntombi. Inokushudula, inenhlonipho. Ingavusa umuzi wakho, Baba.”

Igumbi lathula. Kwezwakala ukukhala kwekhilikithi ngaphandle. UMacingwane wagcina edonse umoya omude. Umsindo lowo wawusinda, ugcwele iminyaka. Lapho ewukhipha, kwaba sengathi amafu amnyama ehlela endlini.

“Ehe, Mandlenkosi mtanami,” kusho ikhehla. Izwi lalo laliphansi, lidilikile, kodwa lihlaba njengomeva. “Ngiyakuzwa. Ngiyayibona imililo emehlweni akho. Kodwa-ke ndodana... ngiyakhathazeka.”

Watshekisa ikhanda. Amehlo akhe agqolozela indodana yakhe. “Lapha endaweni, endlini kaMthwadlana, kukhona uMasthole. UMasthole unomntwana, Mandla. Ingane esagaqa ngamadolo. Ingane ekhala ebusuku. Ingane unyoko ayondlayo ngobisi lwezimbuzi zakho wena ubalisa uthi amatoho awahlangani.”

UMacingwane wathula, evumela amagama akhe ukuthi acwile. “Awukamhlawuli uManeli namanje. Awumondli umntwana. Kodwa namhlanje uvula amehlo ngapha koThukela, ufuna isikhethi esisha. Uthi ngithumele omalume? Ngibathume bayongenzani, Mandla? Bayothi ngubani oyise wengane elala ikhala kwaMthwadlana?”

Isandla sikaMandla sashaya etafuleni. “Baba! U-Maneli ngamthanda, yebo. Ngeqiniso lami ngaleso sikhathi. Ngangizimisele ukuthi avuse umuzi wakho. Kodwa kwakungadaliwe, Baba! Kwakungadaliwe!”

Wavuka wema, umzimba wakhe wonke uyaqhaqhazela. “Le ngane okhuluma ngayo, angiyazi ngamehlo enyama! U-Mjiki wakwaManqele uyayazi. Umama kudala ngimtshela ukuthi le ngane inoyise oyondlayo, hhayi mina! Mina angikaze ngilale noManeli ngaleyo ndlela, Baba!”

UMacingwane wamamatheka. Kwakungelona uhleko lwenjabulo. Kwakuwuhleko olubabayo, olugwele usizi. “Usoze ulale ngomhlane uthuntutha amaphakethe nje, Mandlenkosi. Indoda iyavuma uma yenzile. UManeli uhlala emzini kababa wakhe ebusuku akhale. Uthi ingane ifana nawe ncamashi. Amehlo, isiphongo, ngisho nokuhamba.”

Igazi laqala ukuphuma ebusweni bukaMandla. Wabuyela phansi, wahlala. “Baba, ngiyakuzwa. Kodwa laphaya khona, kwaDlamini, ikhonjwa yimi. UZinhle yisibani sami. Uyothi akashowe lapha ekhaya, siyidle futhi. Intombi nto leyo, Baba. Ayinabala.”

Kwaphela isikhathi eside kuthule. UMacingwane wavuka esihlalweni sakhe. Wahamba kancane waya efasiteleni. Wabuka izinkomo zakhe ezazisengena esibayeni. Wabuka intaba ekude. Wagcina ekhuluma, umhlane wakhe usabheke indodana.

“Kulungile, ndodana.” Izwi lakhe lalingenamzwangedwa. “Ngisazobuka kusasa ekuseni, uma ngikhipha izinkomo. Ngizobona ukuthi ngingakulekelela kanjani. Kodwa kufanele ngazi into eyodwa, Mandlenkosi. Amandla akho mangakanani? Uma ngithuma omalume, bazohamba nani?”

UMandla wagwinya amathe. “Baba, kukhona u-R100,000 ebhange. Umile, uthe mpo. Ngiwusebenzele. Ngilungele.”

UMacingwane wagcina ephenduka. Ubuso bakhe babubonakala bugugile kakhulu ngaphansi kokukhanya kwesibani. “Cha, kulungile-ke, Macingwane.” Wabiza indodana yakhe ngegama lakhe. Kwakusho ukuthi indaba isiqinile. “Singahlanganisa eziyisithupha zoboya esibayeni lapha ekhaya. Wena lungisa ezemali nezindleko. Unqume usuku. Ucele umame akubhalele incwadi uyithumele kwaDlamini. Ngizokwazisa oyihlo nomalume wakho.”

Wasondezela kuye, wabeka isandla esindayo ehlombe likaMandla. “Thatha uMdolomba abe ngumkhongi wakho omkhulu, noSibakhulu. Bangamadoda aziwa umthetho.”

Wabe esethula izwi, kwangathi yisexwayiso sokugcina ngaphambi kwempi. “Khumbula-ke, ndodana. Indoda ekhanda umuzi isiza isimba namadoda aganiwe. Kodwa-ke... indoda yeqiniso ayibaleki emthunzini wayo. Ukucecela kuqala ekhaya, Mandlenkosi. Qiniseka ukuthi izintuli zakho uzithulisile ngaphambi kokuthi uvuse ezinye.”

Waphuma endlini, washiya uMandla ehlezi yedwa. Ngaphandle, ikhilikithi laqhubeka nokukhala. Kodwa endlini, ukuthula kwakusinda kakhulu. Kwakusinda njengesinqindi esilenga phezu kwekhanda lendoda.

There is a ward in Addington Hospital. Female psych ward. And consultation Room808 where the door stays open. Not becaus...
24/04/2026

There is a ward in Addington Hospital. Female psych ward. And consultation Room
808 where the door stays open. Not because we trust the world, but because the
people inside it need to know they can leave. For 13 weeks, I lived in the Female Psych
Ward at Addington. I came in at 9 weeks pregnant and left at 23. I came in as Bed 11
and left as Nobuhle. I did not get better because the ceiling answered me. I got better
because the woman in Bed 1 taught me keep him dry. Because Gogo in Bed 2 taught
me don’t open doors. Because the woman at the vent taught me stay the name.
Because Lisa taught me one hundred and one. Because Aisha taught me write it.
Because Amanda taught me wait at the right gate. Because Thandile taught me take
the blue gown when you can. Because Zinhle taught me don’t stop for one minute.
Because Ovayo taught me leave quiet. Because Zanele taught me feed the warm.
This is not a book about “crazy people.” You’ve seen that on TV. This is a book about a
church. A school. A taxi rank. A fire. A bridge. A gate. A plane. A beer house. A
bathroom floor. It’s about what happens when eleven different kinds of broken get
locked behind one heavy wall at Adington and find out the wall is not a prison. It’s a
sounding board. When one woman screams at 3am, the next one hears it and knows
she’s not the only one who wakes up with ghosts. When one woman counts to one
hundred and one, the next one learns numbers can save you. When one woman writes
all night, the next one learns words can save you.
I am Nobuhle I was r***d. I terminated a pregnancy. I got pregnant again. I thought I
was a murderer. I came here to die, or to stop dying. I didn’t know which. The ward
didn’t fix me. The ward mothered me. Ten times. Every Monday, in Room 808 at
Adington, Dr Dubazane says your name. Not your bed number. Your name. Malevustands by the door. Cele cries. The door stays open. You don’t have to talk. But if you
do, the room listens.
This book is the list I kept under my pillow. It’s the green Bic Gogo gave me. It’s the
takkie Bed 1 left. It’s the scan photo in Zinhle’s pillowcase. It’s the footprint Zanele
carries. It’s 13 weeks. It’s 11 beds. It’s one hundred and one. If you’re on a bathroom
floor right now, if you think you’re the only one, if you think the only way out is loud
start with your name. Write it. Stay one more hour. Then tomorrow again. That’s the
whole job. Addington Hospital. Female Psych Ward. Room 808. Mondays. The door
stays open.

— Yandisa Ka Majoka Ndisarh Rains

Someone asked me to send this book to him, he wants to read it. I've lost the final edited version of it - this is just ...
24/04/2026

Someone asked me to send this book to him, he wants to read it. I've lost the final edited version of it - this is just a raw piece. I had to go back and read 76 pages in 1 day, once again I felt so emotional because it's very close to home. But the final part still melts my heart.

its Only available in PFD ♥️

24/04/2026

Tell Your Friend To tell Their Friends
we are Diving into reading 🥰

24/04/2026

Hello book lovers! 💛*
Welcome to the official page for my novels, short stories & poetry.

This is where words come alive. Expect heart-hitting lines, characters that feel like home, and poetry for the things we struggle to say.

Follow the page if you read with your whole chest.
Like, share, and invite a friend who loves stories.
Ube moja — let’s feel these stories together.

📖 New here?
Hit “Follow” and turn on notifications so you don’t miss new poems, excerpts, and book updates.



---
Yandisa Kamajoka Zulu

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Lindelani
Kwadukuza

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