The Irony of happiness

In loving memory of Oarible Sebapo

I have not spoken to Oarabile in at least three months, so when a thought of him crossed my mind on Friday night I paid no mind to it. I was mad at him, not any fault of his or mine, but he was guilty by association. I told myself that I was better off without him and his boyfriend. I was sure of this. No-one cuts off people like I do. I have a 90% success rate at that. I never thought it would lead here.

When I received the dreaded call I was sitting in the beer garden at the Rugby at St Johns, having a fat conversation about Terreblanche and his death and how we think it was planned. As, soon as the phone rang my heart stopped, I have no idea why. It was Kabelo, we spoke on Thursday, I wonder what she wants. We had light conversation for at least a minute then she said

“I have really bad news, but I can tell you later.”

“No, tell me now!” was my reply. I believe in ripping off the band aid, I want to deal with it then and there.

“Oarabile drowned in Moz this weekend.”

“He did what?”

“He drowned.”

“How is Tshego? Where is he? Thanks for telling me – see you later”

I sat at the beer garden and jumped back into conversation with my friends, I blocked the tragedy out. I sat there caught between world and it began to rain, I decided to go home ( Ok my sister forced me to go home).

When I got home, I thought to myself, the last time I saw Oarabile he was crossing the street, I wouldn’t say hi because he and his boyfriend made me mad. I decided to cook so I wouldn’t have to think about him, I was not hungry I was just cooking, then it came to me. I started singing somewhere over the rainbow to stop the tears, and they began to flow like the Nile considering that hours before I was in denial and not the river in Egypt. I had forgotten what it felt like to really hurt and at that moment, I was hurting like my heart had been dead for years. Oarabile is dead, Oarabile is dead, Oarabile is dead!!!!

I stood in the kitchen, crying, singing, cooking and thought revived itself. I remembered a day, they day I asked him how he knew he was gay (what a straight question right?). He said that he had always known, he just never accepted or knew how to deal with it. He told me he had tried everything to rid himself of it before and the more he could not accept his gayness the sadder his life was. He told me of his many suicide attempts. I remember the one story he told me - he said “ I drank so many pills Chumi neh, and I told my flatmate, I did not even go to the doctor, we went drinking after that and I am alive – clearly God is keeping me alive because he has a purpose for me.”I was with him on that, I mean God preserved him through all the misery that he suffered.

He carried on to say that ever since he accepted his sexual orientation he was happier and less angry at the world. He had also fallen in love, his world was finally coming together. The sadness was gone, the thought of dying a memory… yet in the peak of his joy, on a Holiday, when he was finally happy to be alive, God took him. He was finally happy, then he was gone.

RIP Oarabile Sebapo, I will always love you.