đź“– Chapter 8: The False Light
(Ukukhanya bobuxoki)
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The more Oyena stepped into herself, the more the world tried to erase her.
It started with love.
> “We just want to help.”
But help — in their world — meant control.
It meant stripping her of the very parts that were finally beginning to bloom.
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Lawrence was the first to speak the word: “Church.”
> “It’s progressive,” he assured. “They’re affirming. There’s even a Black woman pastor.”
Martin agreed.
> “Maybe you just need… spiritual structure. Just something real.”
Oyena stared at them both, blinking slowly.
> “What makes you think my spirit isn’t already real?”
They didn’t answer.
They just sent her anyway.
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The church was bright.
Spotless.
Filled with smiling faces and perfectly rehearsed hallelujahs.
The pastor spoke of order.
Of obedience.
Of demons that pretend to be ancestors.
> “There is only one light,” she said, looking right at Oyena.
“All else is darkness disguised as home.”
They gave her holy oil.
She felt sick for days after.
Dreamless.
Dry.
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Then came the scammers.
A classmate from school — Sipho — said his cousin’s aunt “could read her gift.”
Oyena, desperate for answers, took two taxis and R500 to find her.
The woman had long nails and a glass of something too clear to be water.
She told Oyena she was cursed.
Said she needed a cleansing ritual that would cost R3 000 and a white chicken.
When Oyena asked for her name, the woman smiled too wide.
> “What matters is your name, child.”
But the name didn’t ring in her bones.
This woman was no isithunywa.
Just another thief pretending to be the door.
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Still, she kept searching.
Because now she had to.
Even when each step led to more betrayal.
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Meanwhile, the people who loved “Aurora” were in crisis.
Zoe cried after school one day.
> “I don’t get it,” she said. “You’re throwing everything away. For what? Magic? Ghosts?”
Oyena didn’t answer.
She was tired of defending a truth no one wanted to hear.
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Martin and Lawrence called in a specialist.
A cultural psychologist.
He took notes while Oyena sat silent.
> “She may be experiencing delusions connected to ancestral mythology,” he wrote.
“Parental disconnection may have triggered a trauma response.”
But it wasn’t trauma.
It was awakening.
Still — they didn’t know how to love Oyena without grieving Aurora.
And that made them act like enemies.
Even when they were just scared.
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One night, Oyena locked herself in her room and lit imphepho until her chest ached.
She wept.
Not because she was weak —
but because being chosen meant being alone…
first.
She whispered into the smoke:
> “Ndiyazama, Mama. But the world wants to break me before I find you.”
And in the flicker of the flame —
she saw eyes.
Not hers.
Not God’s.
Nomandla’s.
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