Sing Me (4)
By Ayanda Xaba, South Africa:
“Deliver me, out of my sadness
Deliver me, from all of the madness
Deliver me, courage to guide me
Deliver me, strength from inside me”
Sarah Brightman says it better than I could ever do in this song, life is never simple and our mere planning doesn’t cut it. It’s like God lets you plan and then laughs at your face when all your plans go south. I love this song, it’s the one I sang for my audition in Cape Town – the message is very powerful.
It’s been a week since Zain’s panic attack and I’ve decided to hold off on the dumping – Zain is just too sweet. He has backed off a little as well, he’s not as possessive as he was when we started. He lets me venture around alone but always makes sure to ask me how my day went and how I’m feeling. He is very supportive, and I’ve let him into my life a little. Yesterday was a Sunday, he took me out for lunch and I told him the reason I was in Johannesburg. He was shocked, geniunely, he told me how he thought my music would take me places. Well…
I am now just sleeping, it’s midday but that’s what we sisters who stay at home do when everyone is out working. I get a phone call from a private number. I don’t nornally get these but hey..
“Abongile, hello”
“Good afternoon, can I speak to Miss Sokana please?”
“Speaking…”
“This is Cordelia Mseleku from Market Theatre…”
The rest of her message sounded like a dream, I listened attentively with tears flowing down my face.
“Miss Sokana? Are you interested?”
“Yes, yes, I am. I will come tomorrow morning. Thank you very much.”
The humble lady hangs up and I stare into space, trying to figure out what just happened. Could it be that God has finally heard my prayer? But wait; how did they know I was around Johannesburg? I’ve always been a Cape Town based artist so… Zain! That sly, handsome, and considerate creature, he probably contacted them because I’ve never been to market theatre. Tomorrow morning I’m going there for an audition for a place in a musical production they are busy with. I need to prepare! I spring out of bed to take a bath – another one. When I’m nervous I bathe, I can bathe 10 times in one day. It’s one of my silly habits. After bathing I remember in high school they would make us eat onions to preserve our voices before a big competition. I slice an onion and start singing my Sibongile Khumalo favourite.
“You are the shelter embracing us all
That perfect place reached
By conscious devine
You come in my dreams
And show me the way
You’re my guiding light
And my inspiration
My guardian agel
My mountain shade”
The jubilation in my heart cannot be explained. I know it’s just an audition but it’s all I need, just this one chance and I’ll prove my worth. I wonder if they’ll make me act as well, or it’s just my voice they are after. I should’ve asked what musical it is, imagine if it’s a play and I’ll be expected to be dancing around the stage while singing – eh! I’m good in drama but dance not so much, even my performance lecturer gave up on that one.
I have a scarf wrapped around my mouth to keep the onion in. I wonder if this onion trick really works or it’s just all in the mind. I remember Noxolo, my former classmate, was absent during the onion day of the choir. She arrived the next day for the competition and requested to eat it just before the performance. Our teacher/conductor refused saying it would mess up her voice. Noxolo was so stressed out she didn’t perform, she felt inadequate because she didn’t eat the magic portion. I couldn’t help but laugh at her stupidity and her spot in the choir was taken by one of the substitute singers. I shake my head as I remember that day, those were good days. High school groomed us and directed us to a better future. Noxolo studied Office Administration in a college in PE after high school and said she did not want to do music for the rest of her life because it was too demanding. Maybe she was right but I pitied her, she had the most amazing soprano, even better than mine.
—
“And then? What’s with the good mood?” Snowy asks as she walks in from work.
I’m actually the one who gave her the Snowy name because of her light complexion, I was teasing her but it somehow stuck. Her real name is Noluthando, 5 years older than me and we share a mother and father. I need to highlight that because our father was very generous in giving siblings from a lot of women, and he died. When we lost our father none of us cried, we were already tired of shedding tears for him, we did that a lot when he was still alive. Mom would be so stressed every time he disappeared and when he was around she would be crying because of the abuse. When he died he left all his children a large inheritance, all 15 of us. My mother has only 3; Snowy, me and our little brother, Baxolele.
“I have an audition tomorrow,” I tell Snowy as she peeps into the pots I’m cooking. She likes doing this and it irritates me.
“Yuuu mtana ndini! Are you ready for it? Why are you busy with pots instead of preparing for the audition? Oh enkosi bawo!”
My sister has such drama! She always sounds irritated even when she’s happy. The other day she was telling me she thinks Zain really likes me, and instead of saying it like a normal person she said; “Ah shame that big head of yours really loves you”.
That’s Snowy for you! She is now taking out her evening dresses to see if she can find one that would fit me, a futile exercise if you ask me; she is three sizes smaller than me. I didn’t bring many of my formal dresses but there are two black ones that I used to perform in. She pulls out some Chinese wrap, okay this might fit, but what was she doing with this in the first place? Snowy loves dressing up and she has the most amazing fashion sense. As I put on the wrap she is taking out shoes, at least we wear the same size there. I was so busy preparing my voice I totally forgot about the outfit, thank God for Snowy. After a lot of putting on and taking off clothes, I decide on my black dress and her silver heels. Now I’m ready for tomorrow.
