Cover story – Simphiwe Ngema on love, loss and staying strong

Six months have passed since actor and singer Dumi Masilela died in a botched hijacking in Tembisa. His wife SIMPHIWE NGEMA, 28, is still reeling from the loss. Now back on our screens on e.tv’s Broken Vows, the actress shares her pain and talks about lea

I’m finding my way and learning new ways to live. And yes, there are days when I wake up and I’m still in disbelief that this happened to me.

Life is crazy beautiful. One minute you’re smiling from ear-to-ear, and the next you’re drowning in your own tears. It’s like a box of chocolates, as movie character Forrest Gump once said, “you never know what you’re going to get”. Six months ago, we gasped at the breaking news: Rhythm City actor, Dumi Masilela, killed in a suspected hijacking. “But he just got married two months ago,” we murmured in unison. “Poor Simphiwe,” the country echoed. While we shook our heads in disbelief, the actress’ life changed forever that day.

“How are you, really?” I ask her. We are sitting in the corner of a restaurant in Rosebank. It’s been raining outside, in some ways echoing the mood within. The restaurant is quiet, giving us an opportunity to chat properly for a conversation that would be a roller coaster of tears, laughter and more tears.

“I’m finding my way and learning new ways to live. And yes, there are days when I wake up and I’m still in disbelief that this has happened to me. But, I’ve accepted that this is my reality so I need to pick myself up. My husband isn’t here anymore to go work for us. I don’t have the luxury of just sitting around and not doing anything. When he was around I had the surety that at least he could pay for this and that. Now it’s just me. No one’s going to save me,” she says, sipping on a glass of water.

“Losing your husband at such a young age is like losing your entire life and your future. All my dreams were around Dumi – having kids, the work we wanted to do together. Everything! I feel like I’m being reborn and I have to learn how to walk again.”

Simphiwe opens up about her heartbreak and the harsh reality of going on without the love of her life, Dumi. Speaking about the pain of losing her husband, and learning to move on, here’s what she has to say:

THE LIFE-CHANGING CALL

“Dumi died on a Wednesday and I think he knew he was going to die. The previous weekend he had a gig scheduled in East London. He was going to leave on Friday but ended up not going. On Thursday, we were sitting in our room and he said to me, ‘Babe we’ve been through so much but we’ve kept [our relationship] happy.’ During our time together, his dad passed away from cancer; my dad was hospitalised, my sister had an accident and his mom was in and out of hospital. That Thursday we sat and reflected on all the things that had happened and he mentioned how our love had kept us going. Till this day, I feel like that conversation was his goodbye. We spoke a lot about our relationship, reflecting on things, laughing... When we were together we were at our strongest and happiest. On Friday, he came back from work, saying how he had told the guys at work how happy he was with me, how he’d gotten married to his best friend, and having fun within our marriage. That was the same night of the Rhythm City 10-year celebrations. My eldest sister was about to give birth and I was busy with her baby shower around that time. But then Dumi had just become moody that weekend. He stopped talking to me, which was weird, but when we’d go to bed, he’d hold me tightly. When I asked what was wrong he didn’t give me an answer and so I gave him space. He had this look about him, like he pitied me somehow, as if saying, ‘you don’t know what’s about to hit you.’ On the day he passed, he finally spoke to me and asked what I was up to that day. My sister had given birth by then and I was off to the hospital. His mom had been in hospital for three weeks and was getting discharged that day. He went to pick her up and would later fetch me from my sister. To use up time, he went to Tembisa to hang out with his friend. For some reason he was running late, and because he’d been moody, I asked my brother to pick me up. Just when we were about to reach his mother’s house in Kempton Park (where we stayed after his dad passed), I got the phone call that would change my life forever. ‘Dumi’s been shot,’ his best friend Thato, (not the one he’d been in the car with) said to me. ‘He’s in hospital in Tembisa.’ I cried in shock and my brother sped to the hospital.”

FINAL WORDS AND KISS GOODBYE

“When I got to the hospital, it wasn’t dramatic. There wasn’t blood all over or doctors frantically working on him, like in the movies. He was lying on a bed, bandaged around his abdomen, and a tiny dot of blood seeped through to mark where he’d been shot. The first thing he said to me was: ‘Askies nana.’ That was typical Dumi – aIways thinking of others. I held his hand and kept wiping the sweat from his face. The doctors were discussing whether they should work on him there or transfer him to another hospital as he was on medical aid. I remember Dumi yelling that he was in pain and didn’t care what hospital he was in and needed to be worked on immediately. When it was time to operate, Dumi was still talking and looked fine; he didn’t show any signs of intense pain. My family had arrived by then. His two best friends were there as well as his younger brother. We accompanied Dumi to theatre. I held his hand, kissed him and told him I’d see him later. Little did I know that would be our last conversation and kiss. He called to my dad as we were walking out that he’d see him later. My mom kissed and told him she’d see him later. His brother told him he was going to fetch their mom and that, he too, would see him later. ‘I’ll see you all later,’ were the last words Dumi said.

SORRY, WE’VE LOST HIM

“It took a long time to work on Dumi, but not once did I think he wouldn’t make it. They started operating at 9pm and around 2am I started growing uneasy but convinced myself he’d be fine. I remained hopeful. Eventually, the doctors approached his mom and I, ushering us into some room.

We still weren’t suspecting anything. ‘He’s lost a lot of blood, things aren’t looking too good, we’re trying our best,’ they said. My heart immediately sank.

The rest of the family started praying, but I just couldn’t bring myself to open my mouth. I started trembling. Soon after they said ‘amen’, the doctors came back and told us Dumi had died. Those words bounced off my soul. I ran down the corridor. My dad came and I just collapsed, and cried. When I eventually was able to get up, I was still in denial. Although gone, he looked so alive. They’d put oxygen pipes in him and so his chest was still moving. I looked to my dad and asked, ‘is he still alive?’, and he said ‘no, he isn’t, it’s the machine’. When it was time to go I didn’t want to leave. I felt I needed a moment with him alone. But everyone felt they needed to protect me and I understood.”

COME FETCH ME

“Two months before that day, we’d had a conversation about death. We made a pact that when we were old and grey and in our last days, he’d die first and he’d give me just two days to plan his funeral. After that he’d come fetch me. Fast-forward to the day it actually happened, I took a bath, got dressed and went into the restroom. I sat there for a good hour waiting for him to fetch me. People kept knocking on the door but I sat there crying. My dad was tough on us growing up. If you fell he didn’t help you up, you had to do that on your own, teaching us that every time you fall in life, you need to dust yourself off. After an hour sitting there, I heard my dad’s voice in my head saying ‘get up’. In my mind getting up meant I was accepting Dumi’s death and betraying him, and so I stayed sitting, asking for Dumi to come fetch me, but he didn’t come.”

ACCEPTING REALITY

“Dumi’s death is still not real. I don’t think it’ll get to a place where it really is. There are days when I get up and shake my head in disbelief. Two months before then I had been planning a wedding and now I was planning a funeral. Life! I went back to the hospital to identify his body but I was hoping they’d say ‘no, it was a mistake, he wasn’t really dead and he’d miraculously woken up.’ But they didn’t. I didn’t get to see him that day because his body was taken away for a postmortem. I went home still in disbelief.

When his coffin went down at his funeral, I was thinking it’s suffocating him. When the soil covered him, it would suffocate him even more. To this day I hate every type of weather: when it’s hot I feel like he’s suffocating, when it’s cold I feel like he’s freezing, when it’s raining I feel like he’s drowning. I also hate wearing a doek. I hate it with all of me because every time I’d walk past a mirror, the doek would be a reminder that I was wearing it because Dumi had passed away.

The hardest part about grief is the isolation that comes with it. People don’t know how to treat or act around you. That’s the bit they don’t tell you about grieving –it’s traumatic. They tell you about the five stages of grieving. They don’t tell you how morbid it is. You can’t comprehend how the very person you shared everything with is now laying six feet underground. I struggle with Dumi’s death. At first, before I slept, I’d go into the Internet to confirm he really was dead. I’d read all the articles written about him just so I wouldn’t wake up thinking he’s still alive.”

I LOVE YOU FOREVER AND ALWAYS

“Two weeks after he passed he came to visit me in my dreams. I dreamt we were holding hands while walking at a mall that eventually led to a garden. The sun was shining so brightly in the dream. I asked him how long he was here for and he said ‘forever’ and then I woke up. I took that as his way of saying he’s with me always. I haven’t slept alone since Dumi died. It scares me. I’ve been staying at his mom’s house since he passed. I was at my parents’ house recently and some of our wedding gifts were still there unwrapped. I broke down and cried. At his mom’s house I cry in secret because I want to be brave for her. In just over a year, she lost her husband and son and so I’ve taken it upon myself to look after her. For the first time, after that dream, I cried without worrying about anyone else. He’d always say, ‘I love you forever and always’ and I’d say the same.

I never had a love like that before. I feel like he was ‘it’. God gave me exactly what I wanted in a man, in a husband. He was love. I see Dumi everywhere. I’ve kept one of his t-shirts that I smell when I feel really down. I’m anxious about the tradition of giving away his clothes. Everything is still the same in his closet and we haven’t touched it. People often ask if I watched his final episodes on Rhythm City. I did, every day. That kept him alive for us for at least three months. Every time we saw him on screen, he was wearing clean clothes; he was moving and speaking, saying things we’d never heard before. The second-last episode, where he sang, was the most difficult to watch as it felt I was losing him again. The funeral scene, not so much, as we’d experienced it before in real life. We laughed and it was fun to watch as his mom and brother were in it.”

LEAVING THINGS IN GOD’S HANDS

“I haven’t met Dumi’s killer, but I do want to sit and talk to him one day – for my own closure – to ask him how his day was on the day he shot Dumi. What was going on in his mind when he pulled the trigger? I don’t follow the court case against them because it’s not going to change my reality and it won’t make me feel better. Dumi isn’t coming back. We didn’t press charges either; the law is taking its own course. I just want to deal with my grief and move on with my life. His mom is following it, though, and the police keep her up to date with everything. I won’t lie, every time I pass the spot where I got that phone call, it

I never had a love like that before. I feel like he was ‘it’. God gave me exactly what I wanted in a man, in a husband. He was love. I see Dumi everywhere.

takes me back to being sad. I’ve been to the place where Dumi was shot, once. I find strength in God and he keeps me going. So much so that, even when I go for an audition, I don’t stress too much. Obviously, I do my best and I let it go. That’s my outlook on life now, in general, because losing Dumi was worse than my worst nightmare. I thought we’d grow old together.”

MOVING ON

“I don’t feel guilty about trying to be happy anymore because I’ve realised that life goes on. I’d question why the world was carrying on without him. On the 3rd of September last year, reality struck. It was a month since we buried him and I realised I hadn’t been living. I went to his grave with his friend, Thato, after Bongani, who’d been in the car with Dumi, explained in detail what had happened that fatal day. It’s then that it clicked, his passing was inevitable. I was hurting so badly that day at the cemetery that when I got home, I went down on my knees and prayed to God that I learn to accept that Dumi was gone. I asked God to take the pain away. I prayed that if Dumi was next to God, to please tell him to take the pain away. Ever since that day, I haven’t been in such intense pain.

Reality struck once more, two months after his passing. I received a text message from our mobile network – Dumi’s account was in arrears. That text was a reality check that no one was going to come and save me. I’m crawling right now but I’m definitely moving. The other day, I went for an audition and I wore a dress that needed zipping up at the back. Before, I’d just turn my back and Dumi would zip me up. It’s little things like that that get to me.”

GRIEVING IN THE PUBLIC EYE

“It was a month after the funeral that I was able to get out the house. On the first day out, I went grocery shopping with my two moms (mine and Dumi’s). I was wearing a long off-the-shoulder dress. As I walked into store I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. A random guy walked up to me and asked why I wasn’t respectful and covered up. People will be judgmental, no matter what. I choose to chin up. I posted a picture of myself on Instagram at the beach. The reaction to that wasn’t great, I was judged for not respecting the mourning period. Little do people know that day was one of my lowest. My family took me to the beach to cheer me up. I connected with God that day because for a split-second I wasn’t sad. Grief is having love piled up in your heart, because you were meant to be giving it to that special person and now you can’t. It may not be now or in five or ten years but I believe I’ll love again.

‘All I want for my birthday is to hear you say I’m gold because I’m burning ’, – that’s what I wrote on my first post back on Instagram after Dumi died. I missed him so much that day. In 2016 he’d thrown me a surprise birthday party. Last year, funny enough, he’d already bought my presents, that very day he passed. He told his mom where he hid them and she gave them to me on my birthday in August.”

HELP WITH HEALING

“I’ve seen a therapist and met with Letshego Zulu who also lost her husband, racing car driver Gugu Zulu in 2016. She’s an amazing soul and has shed some light into things. Our stories are different. She can always look at her daughter as a living reminder of him. Dumi died as we were in the process of trying for a baby. My biggest wish today is that I’d had a child with him. But it wasn’t meant to be. My advice to everyone who’s lost a loved one: do what you feel at the moment and forget about the opinions of others. They won’t ever understand what you’re going through. I don’t believe time is a healer, I believe that over time you get better equipped to carry the burden.”

MY GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT

“Dumi and I met in 2014 at the first-birthday party of my best friend and actress, Joanne Reyneke’s child. As I was leaving I locked eyes with Dumi, I felt something but ignored it. I wasn’t looking for love as I’d just come out of a relationship. A month later, Joanne came to pick me up from work, only to find that Dumi was tailing her car and we were all going for lunch. They both tricked me. Hesitant at first, I eventually gave him my numbers and we chatted every day from then on. He was very expressive, I knew exactly where I stood with him and he knew how I felt about him too. We spoke about how much we loved each other every day.

He’d always tell me how I was the best thing that’s happened in his life. He said something that will stay with me always: ‘You are my greatest achievement and the proudest thing I have.’

Dumi didn’t have fancy cars or material things as achievements. His dad loved me and he was so proud of him for bringing me home to them. What attracted me to him most was that he knew who he was. He knew God and we’d always pray together.

He wasn’t wealthy but he walked into a room and everyone would notice. People were either intimidated or inspired by him. He didn’t have to be told he was a man – he knew it. He, too, was my greatest achievement. He paid lobola for me in January 2016 and on 20 May 2017, the day that marked his dad’s burial the year before, we had our traditional wedding. We wanted to have kids before we had our white wedding.”

WHAT I LEARNT FROM DUMI

“There are so many things I’ve learnt from Dumi but the biggest lesson is to be fearless. He was a brave man until his last day. When his killer came towards his car, he moved his chair forward and started the car. After he was shot he still managed to drive himself to the hospital. A person with fear would’ve given the hijacker the car. Dumi died from internal bleeding, the bullet pierced through all his vital organs. He was a beautiful soul. I’m grateful that I got to live amongst greatness.”■

I don’t feel guilty about trying to be happy anymore because I’ve realised that life goes on. I asked God to take the pain away.