They say once beaten twice shy. This is a proverb I should have paid attention to when Big Jo came to visit me a month ago. I should have listened to my instincts to run away from him the moment he entered my house and pat me on the back like we were old buddies.He apologized profusely for the incident that happened when we were last together, that lead to me losing my passport and dignity.
To make it up to me he said he would buy me an airticket to Dubai. He said he had a contract to buy medical equipment and needed my help as I am smart with numbers. Of course this boosted my ego and after he showed me pictures of Dubai I was even more eager to give Big Jo a second chance.After all it wasn’t his fault I got mugged in Johannesburg last time.
“But ba Kamba,” I said, “this time lets not stay in Hilbrow.”
“No problem mwana we will stay in Alexandra.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. I felt sure this was a much better suburb. Maybe it was a white surburb.I had heard that the whites in South Africa lived in beautiful suburbs.
Big Jo wasn’t messing around this time and soon won my trust. This time round we flew to Johannesburg on Zambian Airways.It was my first flight. I must have been fumbling with the seat belt because a beautiful lady came to help me put it on.Her scent was so lovely and I hoped she didn’t hear my heart pounding against my chest as she leaned close to me. Air hostesses are even more beautiful than I ever imagined.
Anyway after 2 hours we arrived in Johannesburg and booked a cab to Alexandra. I was so glad we were not using those dangerous minibuses. I was however horrified when after an hour we drove into a shanty compound.
My mouth gaped and I felt terribly scared.
Big Jo sensed my horror.
“Mwaice we are just spending a night with Nyika, my Zimbabwean friend. We won’t even have to pay anything here,” he said.
But is it safe I asked?
“Iwe mwaice, ninshi kanshi.You are too picky like a woman.You said no Hilbrow.Besides Nyika has lived here for 5 years,” he said.
We soon arrived at Nyikas three roomed house. I really wondered why Big Jo chose such humble accommodations when he had money to buy 2 airickets.
Nyika was a friendly man and I soon relaxed. In the evening after supper Nyika suggested we go visit a friend in the next street.I safely put my passport and money at the bottom of my bag.If I got mugged at least I wouldn’t be robbed of my passport. We had barely left the house when we saw a huge mob wielding pangas, machetes and sticks. At first I thought it was some weird Zulu dance till we saw them descend on a house not too far from where we stood.I heard a terible long shrill scream.At this point I didn’t need a sixth sense to know that mob was going to descend on us too. Big Jo and I instinctively ran in the opposite direction. Nyika seemed intent on finding out what was going on. Ofcourse by this time many people were out of their houses wondering what the commotion was about.I had never felt so scared in my life. I didn’t even know where we were running as we tried to figure out a way out of the maze of streets.A man who was also running stopped us and told us we were running in the wrong direction.My legs felt weak at the thought of running into that murderous mob. Out of breathe Big Jo asked what was going on.
“They are killing foreigners, now quick lets ran to the police station,”the man panted.
As we ran the group of people running grew.Some had bloodied faces,some were crying hysterically.
What had I gotten myself into? Why did I trust Big Jo. I looked around for Big Jo but in the commotion we had gotten separated.Why were these people killing foreigners? Have they so quickly forgotten that we allowed them exile in our countries during aparthied?
When we arrived at the small police station we were loaded in trucks and taken to a church about 30minutes drive.There I saw Big Jo. He was visibly shaken.
“They’ve killed Nyika,”he sobbed ” He was trying to reason with them but they paid no attention to him and burned him in his house.”
I felt such rage,such fear such hatred. I was so angry my stomach hurt. Whats wrong with these people? No if I feel this way I’m no better than them. Vengeance is mine said the Lord.
Once again I’m in South Africa without my passport and money. What do I even say to that cocky woman at the embassy?
EDITOR’s NOTE: Post Your Lifestyle stories through the Contact Us Link Above. The best stories will get published in the Lifestyle section of the site.