I’ve had affairs: affairs, extended affairs, one-night stands, intensely carnal encounters, and fantasy love affairs that never happened. My love life story is littered with corpses and tears.
But, a story that stands out above the rest is that of a woman named Nompilo (the one who gives life). She was the complete opposite. I had a polyandrous relationship with Nompilo. No typo. Yes, you read it right. He was happily in love with a woman, who told me on the first date that she was involved with someone else, another man. In this hierarchy of multiple sexual partners (ubufebe), I was not what is colloquially known as heterosexual or, more accurately, the main boyfriend. In IsiZulu, I was isidikiselo (secondary lover).
In his seminal book Love in the Times of Aids, British academic Mark Hunter describes these relationships in depth. He found that: I-straight is a recognized main boyfriend. He sometimes has the right to have sex (no prior HIV test required) without a condom and that right extends less to ishende (secret lover) and, or, isidikiselo (secondary lover).
My love story with Nompilo began in earnest around February 1995. It took me a whole 25 months to date a city girl. She even got a nod as my first girlfriend to wear pants in our relationship, literally. As a newbie to the city of Durban in the early 90s, it was a novelty for me to date a woman who wore pants. don’t laugh I’m a BBT, born before technology. Nompilo was, for lack of a better phrase, the queen of my heart. She was beautiful, a petite plus-sized woman of medium height with a fair complexion. So this was an achievement in all respects. Since then, I moved to the city of Durban in January 1993; my private affairs had been taken care of by my rural gourds. God bless you.
In my ill-fated love affair with Nompilo, we both understood, so I thought, the limits and perspectives of our love affair. Luckily, I had the right to have sex without a condom even though I was the (isidikiselo) secondary lover. In hindsight, I should not have accepted this benefit.
The main boyfriend (I-straight) was somewhere in Vryheid, and I was in Durban. The big idea, at least in my head, was that there were clearly geographically delimited playing fields for both of us. I’d handle Nompilo’s private affairs in Durban while the other guy would play nice and stay out of my territory. Fair play! I for one had no plans to see Nompilo outside of the Durban city limits. I had no idea that this arrangement was just the figment of my fertile imagination, and it will end in tears, at least for me.
However, in retrospect, I wasn’t actually in love with Nompilo even though we had a comprehensive relationship that included sexual intercourse. Yet he was enamored with the idea of her: well spoken, well dressed, and articulate. Our relationship stumbled from one crisis to the next. I didn’t care, as long as the word got out that he had a girlfriend, he was happy.
At first, she gave me a sexually transmitted disease, which made her the first woman to do so. I asked him to pay for my treatment. She obeyed. She became a series of broken promises. I let it all slide. You see, I needed Nompilo in my life to maintain a modicum of respectability. Remember, at the time I was the vice president of the Student Representative Council (SRC) at the then Technikon Natal, so dating a small-town beauty like Nompilo added a sense of aroma to my budding career in dating city girls. . Everything was fine with my soul. So I thought.
Well, well, well, that was true until she nonchalantly announced on the eve of that long weekend of August 9, 1995: “My boyfriend is coming to spend the weekend at the res (dorm) with me. So I’ll really appreciate it.” if you don’t make a scene “. she I was ordered:” To make me scarce “.
To say he was devastated is putting it mildly. My whole world collapsed in front of my eyes. I thought I had made a hole for myself with Nompilo. In my mind, we all had a place in his heart, but I imagined that I ruled the city of Durban. I was naive
On the second night over the long weekend, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I walked a short distance to the Nompilo res. When I got there it was past midnight. I was shaking and sweating cold. My eyes spit fire. I was angry. Of smoking! I stood at the door for minutes and minutes. Time stopped. I knew my whole world was in there. To deliberately misquote JM Coetzee in his novel Heart of Darkness: “Night falls, and Nompilo and his main fiancée cavort in the bedroom. Hand in hand they caress her womb.” In fact, “these were good times for them.”
While I was there, a million ways to commit perfect murder ran through my head. In the end, a cliché won the day: if you love her enough, leave her alone. I did not call at the end. I went home and cried myself to sleep.
A short time later, I realized all the mental and physical effects of being an isidikiselo (secondary lover). It was an emotional roller coaster. A walk, for which my young and fragile heart was not prepared. It became clear to me that the golden cup was broken. Something inside me died that night. I soon broke up with Nompilo and moved on.
