Chapter 4 - Nolwazi

"So glad you'll get to experience your first real Homecoming," Zanele tells Rori in the small room inside Fort Hare's Student Centre.

We're about thirty minutes from the interview beginning, and as nervous as I am, you'd think I'm about to sit down with the President.

"I mean, I did rag week at Tuks for undergrad," Rori asserts. "That wasn't a Black university, but how different can it be?"

Zanele and I catch eyes in the mirror as I put the finishing touches on my makeup, sharing a knowing smirk. I stand to face my cousin and pat his shoulder. "Like she said, your first real Homecoming."

Rori rolls his eyes and laughs good-naturedly, receiving the teasing in the spirit we gave it.

"Alright, sisi," he says. "Then I'm counting on you for the full experience."

"Oh, you'll get it." I run a brush through my blow-out before grabbing the lapel mic and fixing it to my collar. "You still keen for the gumboots tonight?"

"I'm keen for whatever," Rori says, sending a meaningful—and if I'm not mistaken, slightly lascivious—glance Zanele's way.

"Be careful what you ask for, mfana," Zanele chuckles, shaking her head and sending her braids swinging. "Might get more than you can handle."

"Why'd you have to tell her how old I was?" Rori grumbles.

"She didn't tell me how old you are," Zanele corrects. "She told me how young you are."

"What's ten years?" Rori steps close to Zanele and tugs one of her braids, his eyes warm and teasing. "Dating me won't send you to jail, though I do have some handcuffs if you're into that kind of—"