DARK DIVIDE

2.AVETHANDWA SISULUBeing lost in dancing is exactly what I needed. Who needs therapy when there's music? There's power in music. It's soothing to the soul. Sometimes, it doesn't feel like dancing. It feels like moving exotically. It feels like art. A body art. Art is so much more than what we are taught at school. Art is supposed to come out freely. It's not taught or manipulated in any way. It can be strengthened, but it has to come from deep within. You're not a dancer if you can't feel yourself dancing from within, you're not a singer if it doesn't feel like expressing yourself musically. You're not a writer if your writing doesn't shock you from now and then. You're not a painter if you only paint things that make sense to the average people. A true painter is the one who tells a story through a painting. A painting has to speak with you. In all of these, art is unexplained. It's only felt, and if you haven't felt it flowing through your body, then you need to reconsider pursuin

4.AVETHANDWA SISULUTo the higher ups, never ever again. Yesterday, I woke up with a headache. I know it was alcohol but I hated myself at that point. I remembered everything from the pool party. All the silly jokes I cracked and how I was just an annoying girl who can't handle alcohol. Mostly, I hate that I let myself be vulnerable in front of three guys who I just met. Going to a party at their house is fine but getting wasted? I wonder where did the other girls go to but who cares?“There you are.” Tinyeleti came running to me at my desk. She hugged me.“Hi to you too.” She let go.“I was so fuckin worried on Saturday. How could you be so dumb Avethandwa? Is Mbuso your brother?” She is mad.“Obviously not.”“Then why are you so over familiar with him? Hello? We are women.” I know that because guess what? I travel with a knife.“I'm sorry Tinyeleti for getting wasted at Mbuso's place.” She sighed and sat on the desk.“I'm also sorry. I was just worried. You don't normally go out wi

6.AVETHANDWA SISULUTime travels so fast. Next week, I'll be an official degree holder, and today I'm going out with Tinyeleti to her brother's place. I don't want to admit this, but I'm actually looking forward to going there. He lives in a fancy building. We passed by the mall first for some alcohol. I'm not going to drink this time. I don't want to embarrass myself in front of my crush. Don't mention any of this to Tinyeleti.“10th floor it is.” Tinyeleti tells no one in particular as she presses the button. I'm busy pulling down my skirt, but it's short already. What am I doing? It's not like I'm going to meet my boyfriend's parents. Tinyeleti is wearing even a shorter dress, and she has no care in the world. It's easier to wear short clothes inside the house than it is to wear them outside.The elevator opens up, and we walk to his door with the alcohol. Tinyeleti rings the bell, and the door opens up, revealing her shirtless brother. I swear I stop breathing as I take him in. H

8.AVETHANDWA SISULUGive me ten shots and play my kind of music, you'll find me on top of the tables shaking what my mama gave me...oops she's dead. That bitch acted holier than thou but she was just that a bitch. When Sizwe's runs his hands on me, i take it as an opportunity to start dancing for him. I could live like this for the rest of my life. Intoxicated, out of my mind and being at my happiest.“Let's skip the party.” He whispers to me and somehow, I like the sound of that. Sizwe can chase me for my whole life and I will never give him a chance but a hookup? Hell yes. I think it's my horniness talking. They say alcohol goes straight to your bean and I'm afraid it has. I can feel it throbbing.“I like the sound of that.” I bite his ear just to make my intentions known. He place down his beer and hold my hand with a smile which I return. “I need to tell Tinyeleti first.” I search around for her with my eyes and there's no sign of her. I'll text her.“Let's just go.” I'm the one

10.AVETHANDWA SISULUJackie gave me the day off. She knows about my dad being in prison, so I drove to my apartment to fetch my grandma, and we both drove to King Mampuru II Correctional Centre. We had to wait a bit before my dad showed up because we came early. My grandma was sobbing when she saw my dad approaching. She hasn't seen him in six months, but she always does this. She says she wants to make him feel so bad about his mother crying so that he would consider an escape from prison. She doesn't even mind hiding him in her house. My grandma has watched so many movies and series about prison break.“Mother, why are you always crying?” Dad holds her hands when he sits down. He honestly doesn't like seeing her cry. It always makes him look so down.“When are you getting out of this prison, my son?” Same question every time. Someone should explain to my grandma how the law works.“I may get an appeal soon, Ma. Please don't cry.” I stare at my dad in shock. I was here weeks ago. He