I was in this house again last night, in her room. She was packing her stuff for some journey. She was always on a journey to somewhere. The last quarrel we had (we were always quarreling her and I) was in February when she called me and demanded that we go to Thailand for her birthday early this month. Ashamedly I admitted to not having the money. True to nature she took me to the cleaners: “how can a grown ass man not have R10grand just lying around for impromptu trips abroad.” I pleaded for patience; “let’s go in January,” I begged. “I will not reach 30 without going overseas bhuti!” She insisted. I tried one last Hail Mary – let’s go to the Seychelles in June then. “I am not spending my birthday in this excuse of a country” was her final word. I let it go – forgot about it even. In my head I was planning for Thailand in January. “Asiphe is mad” I consoled myself. The evening of 4 April, two days before her birthday, I get a video call from her. The picture is very poor, the sound too. But I get some important details before we are cut off: she is at Addis Ababa on a connecting flight. I am enraged, surprised and impressed all at the same time: she is going to Thailand without me – how dare she! 😤 Not just that but alone 😲 She wanted to do it, and she’s doing it! 🤗 I immediately dedicate my WhatsApp status to her badassery. I thus conclude, in that ode, that my friend has taken a powerful decision and she is happy. That is all one can ever ask: BO-I-TUMELO. I used that word with all it’s heavy existential philosophy. She is happy, content, agreeable, in her being, with her being. BOITUMELO! Being one to never be impressed with my kak poetry; she just corrects me to say she’s going to France, not Thailand. I am even more sad – now I have no desire to visit Thailand, but Paris has the allure of a chance encounter with my god Kundera. She couldn’t care less.