I grew up ePimville Zone5, main road. One Christmas day my sister sends me to go and get sticky tape from some house across the road. I must have been 16 or so.
I’m in chicky hot pants, and some ‘gum-gedlela’ shoes, my Christmas outfit, I’m hip and definitely happening.
Microbus stops next to me, my heart starts pounding, those cars were notorious for drama and mayhem nje. Grrrrrr. In the car are... 2 guys.
I recognize one, his name is Themba (TS), known thug in the area, he lived close by. I relax because I had befriended him. In those days you either befriended them or they haunted your very existence.
I greet him, ‘heita’….he says nothing. Instead he looks at me coldly, blankly, like he didn’t recognize me or he doesn’t want his friend to know that he knows me. I’m confused but calm.
The driver says ‘Voetsek ngena emotweni’. Oh crap. Really? I don’t move. I look at Themba, I give him that look ‘C’mon buddy save me!!!!!’. He looks away. Yoh yoh yoh. Now my heart is makings its way down to my groin at 80km’s an hour. Driver pulls out a gun from underneath his seat ‘ Voetsek s’febe, ngena emotweni’. I say a short prayer ‘Lord have mercy, Amen’. Quick discernment – ‘there is no way I’m getting in this car willingly…’ Driver now points the gun at me, and Themba opens the door of this VW microbus. I hate this car. Noways. I’m still frozen. Now the driver opens his door. I start running towards my house. Husein Bolt strides, determined to outrun a bullet. Ok. He shoots, I hear the shot, I fall…..’have I been shot?’. Jezasi. My stubborn nature says ‘get up sisi, get up’. Driver is walking towards me with his gun pointed at me. I manage to run into the yard, we had those slam-lock Trellidor hoezits. I slam it shut. My sister could see the look of fear, confusion and absolute rage in my face. She asks ‘Keng Mmukzo’, I can’t speak. I lock myself in the bathroom. Driver gets into the yard and yells ‘ngizokuthola !’….
After a few minutes I tell my sister what happened. She had seen a man with a gun through the window. She wipes off my tears, gives me sugar water. We resolve to go on with the business of Christmas.
3 weeks later, I bump into Themba e13 (some house down the road), I’m going to buy baking powder eSpaza. He says ‘ithi ngikukhaphe’. Oh Bawo.
He khaphas me to the spaza, we buy baking powder. But we are walking with an entire herd of pink polka dot elephants. I will not bring this up. He doesn’t either.
He walks me home, I’m so scared but I will not give him the benefit of letting him in on my fear. As I approach my gate he says ‘ungibekele amakhekhe’. I say ‘sure’.
THE END!
I’m in chicky hot pants, and some ‘gum-gedlela’ shoes, my Christmas outfit, I’m hip and definitely happening.
Microbus stops next to me, my heart starts pounding, those cars were notorious for drama and mayhem nje. Grrrrrr. In the car are... 2 guys.
I recognize one, his name is Themba (TS), known thug in the area, he lived close by. I relax because I had befriended him. In those days you either befriended them or they haunted your very existence.
I greet him, ‘heita’….he says nothing. Instead he looks at me coldly, blankly, like he didn’t recognize me or he doesn’t want his friend to know that he knows me. I’m confused but calm.
The driver says ‘Voetsek ngena emotweni’. Oh crap. Really? I don’t move. I look at Themba, I give him that look ‘C’mon buddy save me!!!!!’. He looks away. Yoh yoh yoh. Now my heart is makings its way down to my groin at 80km’s an hour. Driver pulls out a gun from underneath his seat ‘ Voetsek s’febe, ngena emotweni’. I say a short prayer ‘Lord have mercy, Amen’. Quick discernment – ‘there is no way I’m getting in this car willingly…’ Driver now points the gun at me, and Themba opens the door of this VW microbus. I hate this car. Noways. I’m still frozen. Now the driver opens his door. I start running towards my house. Husein Bolt strides, determined to outrun a bullet. Ok. He shoots, I hear the shot, I fall…..’have I been shot?’. Jezasi. My stubborn nature says ‘get up sisi, get up’. Driver is walking towards me with his gun pointed at me. I manage to run into the yard, we had those slam-lock Trellidor hoezits. I slam it shut. My sister could see the look of fear, confusion and absolute rage in my face. She asks ‘Keng Mmukzo’, I can’t speak. I lock myself in the bathroom. Driver gets into the yard and yells ‘ngizokuthola !’….
After a few minutes I tell my sister what happened. She had seen a man with a gun through the window. She wipes off my tears, gives me sugar water. We resolve to go on with the business of Christmas.
3 weeks later, I bump into Themba e13 (some house down the road), I’m going to buy baking powder eSpaza. He says ‘ithi ngikukhaphe’. Oh Bawo.
He khaphas me to the spaza, we buy baking powder. But we are walking with an entire herd of pink polka dot elephants. I will not bring this up. He doesn’t either.
He walks me home, I’m so scared but I will not give him the benefit of letting him in on my fear. As I approach my gate he says ‘ungibekele amakhekhe’. I say ‘sure’.
THE END!
