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Betrothal

I can feel my eyelids beginning to droop. I was up almost all night in theatre doing the anaesthetic for Caesarians. One of the children born was very unwell and needed fairly intensive resuscitation, much to the shock of one of our American pre-medical students. It is now 2pm and I am in our anti-retroviral medication clinic seeing problem patients for the nurses. I turn to the counsellor I am working with.

“Thulani, do you reckon I could have a cup of tea? I am fading!”

Thulani, who can’t be more than 19, grins. “Let us go ask!” he says. We nip out into the hall and stick our heads round the admin door. I summon my best Zulu.

“Wait for it,” deep breath, “Ngicela itiye!” They all burst out laughing and one of the counsellors jumps up.

“I will get you tea.” We get back to work. 5 minutes later the counsellor, Nomusa, stick her head round the door and hands in a cup of - to be honest - fairly grim tea.

“Ahh! Siyabonga! [Thanks!]”, I cry. “Ngiyamthanda!” I am rather proud of myself. I worked out the sentence myself from my textbook – “I love you!” Nomusa looks startled and then bursts into peals of laughter. Thulani shrieks with laughter as well and claps me on the shoulder.

“Hey doctor! I enjoy working with you! It is always entertaining!” I hear Nomusa go into the next room and presumably relate what I have just said to the other counsellors. Through the wall I hear a muttering and then shrieks of hysterical laughter from everyone inside. I begin to worry slightly.

An hour later I am leaving. Nomusa is leaning against the wall of the cabin. “So doctor. When will you pay the lobola [dowry]?”

“How many cows?” I ask.

“For me? 11.”

“Is that enough?”

“13!”

As I pass through outpatients I relate the incident to Nomfundo, one of the docs. She arches an eyebrow. “What did you think you were saying?”

“Well, ‘I love you.’”

“Yes – but it does not mean quite the same thing in Zulu as it does in English. It means much more. I would be careful how much you say it or you will find your life very complicated!”

I walk back to the flat rather soberly, imagining a future in which I am hunted by the father’s of the countless Zulu girls to which I have unwittingly pledged my undying love.

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