2.

2.

AVETHANDWA SISULU

Being 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 pursuing art.

I'm only pulled out of my trance by the music stopping. I open my eyes and find Maurice towering over me. I stand up properly.

“Hey Maurice,”

“You should be a dance teacher, Ave. Your dancing is exceptional.” A compliment coming from him means a lot. Maurice is an amazing dancer. He went to art school and has received a few awards.

“I'll rather dance for fun.” I walk to my bag to take out a towel to wipe the sweat off me and also drink some water.

“I will pay you. I'm really finding it hard to focus on two dance studios. My moves are becoming sloppy.” I doubt that. Maurice is art personified.

“I have a demanding internship. Besides, I take dancing as a hobby.” He nods and walks to his office. Soon, the room is filled with Maurice students. They are mostly teenagers, but it's not like a 21 year old like me is old. I wouldn't care even if there were toddlers, and I was the only adult here, but at least there's three people older than me and... a new face?

“Gather around, everyone. You are familiar with our tradition when there's a new member, right? Sir, come introduce yourself.” Maurice calls out the guy. Sir? He's younger than him, but i guess that's just Maurice. If he doesn't address you as ma'am, then you're sir.

“Firstly, I want to tell you how your dancers are beautiful, Maurice. I'm happy I'll be dancing with such beauty. I'm Mbuso. Who are you all? Let's start with you.” He looked at me. I rolled my eyes.

“I'm Ave. If you don't mind, can we start?” As if it's not enough, I bumped into him yesterday he is here.

“I like that suggestion, Ave.” He went back to his position.

Throughout the class, he was staring at me, especially at my ass when I made some backwards moves. I was so annoyed. I want him gone from the class. This is supposed to be my safe space, and he's here making advances at me. Who is Mbuso vele?

—

“Hey Ave!” He ran to me outside.

“What do you want?”

“Whoa? Did I offend you?” Is he even asking?

“For the fact that you're asking, I'm questioning your IQ. You were making me uncomfortable back there.” I fold my arms and stare at him. What is it about him? He's not even good-looking. Charming? Maybe. But I'm not looking for a boyfriend. Have you ever been so peaceful in your life that you're just enjoying your peaceful life and don't want to be disturbed? Boys would do that to you.

“Can I apologise? That was not my intention. I just think you're pretty.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “And I want to be your friend.” Just a friend? I stare at him. He's smiling. He's always smiling. He looks friendly, but do I really need a friend?

“Why? You barely know me.”

“I think you're interesting, Ave.” Eh, why is he suddenly serious?

“What if you catch feelings? Your gender knows nothing about friendship with no smashing.” He scratches his head.

“Let me just say, I have enough girls to smash. I need a friend.” At least he's honest. I'm gonna regret this.

“We can be friends, Mbuso.” I put forth my hand, and he shakes it. His hand is sweaty. I remove mine and wipe it on my tight.

“I'm looking forward to being your friend Ave. What's your full name?” We are already there? I don't think so.

“As a friend, refrain from staring at my butt or I'll punch you in the face, Mbuso.” He laughs, and I walk away, leaving his foolish ass there. I passed a black SUV parked with someone watching me from inside, but I can't see their face properly. I put on my headphones and listen to Blue Strips by Jessie Murph featuring Sexyy Red as I navigate through the cars to go find my cab.

—

“Dear, what are you cooking?” I was on a video call with my grandma while chopping some veges.

“I'm making some samp and oxtail. My favourite meal.” Moving to Johannesburg didn't take out the rural girl in me. I still enjoy the simplest things.

“I miss your cooking. When are you going to visit this old girl?” This old girl was holding a bottle of Black Label, but hey.

“You have to come for my graduation, Makhulu. We'll discuss me visiting you after that.” My graduation ceremony is in two months.

“I'm so proud of you, Avethandwa. You turned out so well, ntombo. People thought I would fail to raise you, but look at you now, twenty-one with no baby and about to graduate. Shout out to aboGogo.” Ntombendala is drunk. I laugh at how she yells. The Black Label is sinking in. It will show her flames.

“Shout out to you, girlfriend.” I entertain her. On a normal day, calling my grandma girlfriend would amount to being insulted by her. Her insults are so deep, but I'm used to her. My grandma can make you cry with her words. She's brutal, but growing up as the only grandchild who lived with her, it meant I got to witness all her bad moments and good ones. The good ones were felt more because she's generally not a bad person. She just misses her children, mostly my dad, because he's the only son. Her two daughters got married and only come home on Christmas.

I got cousins obviously and they visit more than their parents. I continue cooking with my grandma gossiping about the neighbours new daughter-in-law, who's a great cook because of the smell of her food. My grandma passes out on the phone, and I hang up on her. I take my food to the lounge to eat while watching TV.

When I'm not dancing, I'm cooking and watching series. Mostly thriller and suspense. Believe me, I get scared, but thriller is better than horror. It's mostly blood and guns but with horror? You'll come across creatures that don't even exist yet feel real because of how scary they are. You'll believe there's a Darkasher somewhere out there.