Close shave

I BELIEVE my life was in danger recently.  Virtual races and challenges have taken the globe by storm due to the coronavirus pandemic, and I’m participating in a 300km challenge, initiated by my sister in Denmark. I try to walk approximately 5km daily. I decided to walk around 4pm. A few metres before I got home, I noticed a man in front of me, covering himself from the head with a dirty blanket. He appeared to be a vagrant. At some point, he stopped to adjust his blanket, and I felt as if he had looked at me as he did so. He dragged his blanket further down, such that it covered his upper face, then he wrapped his purple scarf around his face. Alarm bells started ringing in my head. I was asking myself if he was trying to hide his face in preparation to strike.  Then I thought, maybe I need to stop watching On the Case with Paula Zahn and all the Investigation Discovery programmes making me see danger everywhere, even when people are just trying to protect themselves from the cold weather. It doesn’t help that I work in the media, where the primary focus on the bad and the ugly is enough to get one unhinged.  I also reminded myself that profiling of any kind was unfair. Not everyone who appears down on their luck should be viewed as a thug and potential threat.

The man appeared to have somewhat slowed down after noticing me. I decided to pick up pace, he did too, but not enough to overtake me. I saw another man walking behind us, and felt a surge of relief that my tail would surely not pounce on me with another person in the vicinity. But that man appeared to be in a hurry and soon outpaced us. The man I believe was following me switched to the same side I was walking, and seemed determined not to overtake me. I felt, or imagined, his eyes boring into my back, and was relieved when I got to our complex. Sadly, load-shedding was underway and the electrical gate to our complex wouldn’t open. I was, however, sure the man would just walk on by, seeing I was now home. As I stood by the gate, something made me turn back, and there he was, all covered up by his blanket and purple scarf, with only the eyes showing. He was standing about five metres away from me, gazing at me. Then calmly, from behind his blanket, he tilted his head to sweep his eyes up and and down the road, probably checking if there was any person nearby. I checked too, and there was absolutely no one within sight. It was eerily quiet. Then out of nowhere, a car pulled into the driveway and stopped by the gate, intending to also get into the complex. As soon as the man saw I wasn’t alone anymore, he whispered, "I'll see you, neh?" and walked away.

 Days after the incident, I saw the man begging at an intersection

I was pretty shaken up when someone inside the complex opened the gate for the black car. I got in and just stood there gazing at it until it parked outside a house. I wondered whether to go after the occupants and say thank you for showing up when you did, and kiss their feet. Their arrival probably saved me from something catastrophic. Gender-based violence is at an all-time high in South Africa, and I could easily have become a statistic. Maybe not, but I believe we should always trust our instincts. When someone’s presence destabilises your spirit, don’t second-guess yourself.  We might want to be good sports who see the best in everyone, but there is no space for such toxic positivity in the world we live in. You need to constantly look over your shoulder because there is almost danger lurking in the shadows, especially for women. Not everyone we encounter has our best interests at heart. It is a depressing way to live.

 When I got inside the house, I was so relieved to see my children, and be back to safety. My daughter asked, “How was your walk, mummy?” I told her my walk was bad because I met a bad man along the way. In her innocence, she asked if I had taken a picture. When I said no, she ran and took a sheet of black paper and a felt pen, and asked me to draw him.

I told two of my friends about the encounter, and they all encouraged me to find a walking buddy. Unfortunately, I don’t have one. At the beginning of my walk, two ladies overtook me and they were chatting away. I remember feeling a wave of sadness for a brief moment, wishing I had someone to occasionally walk with. I don’t really mind my own company, and walking alone gives me the rare opportunity to reflect on my life and line my thoughts. Still, it would be great to have someone to call on when I need some company during my walk.

Today I woke up feeling ballsy and determined to walk again. It was cold and   windy, so I wore my warm clothes and got out of the gate, I looked up and down the road, and noticed there weren’t any walkers or pedestrians in sight. Everyone seemed to have developed cold feet due to the wintry weather. Seeing the road so quiet creeped me out as I remembered the unwelcome encounter from yesterday. With my tail neatly tucked between my legs, I went back into the house. He won.

The most fearful journey I ever had

Outside The Royal Belfast Hotel

My trip back to Swaziland after enjoying the festive season in Zimbabwe was quite nightmarish. Somewhere along the way while we were heading towards Jane Furse in South Africa, our car developed a problem and limited speed to just 60km/hour, nothing above that. It got dark and we were on an unfamiliar unlit road for about 60km. at some point, the car must have hit a pothole and veered off the road and zigzagged for a few metres before stabilizing. I noticed that there was a car which was steadily following us all the way and wouldn’t overtake. My husband tried indicating that it was safe to overtake but it just continued to follow us at that slow pace. I was really terrified out of my head and snapped at my 10-year-old who persistently asked me to spell lizard. He had no idea what was happening around him and that my mind was quite a tumultuous place at that point in time. I silently prayed for safety and started removing important things from my handbag while being mindful to leave a bit of money in it, in case we were about to be robbed and the robber would probably just ask for the bag and run with it. A part of me also feared what if they just want to take the car and I’ve put a substantial amount of money, bank cards and driver’s licence in the compartment at the back of a seat? How would I retrieve them? I did not even communicate my fear with my husband because vocalizing them would have probably have worsened our situation by causing panic. Just before a town called Stoffberg, the car tailing us suddenly overtook and sped off into the night. I was, and still really convinced that our lives were under some kind of threat, and was really relieved when the car left us alone. If anything bad had happened to us, it would have been difficult for anyone to know what happened to us because the road was totally deserted.

I suggested to my husband that we used the navigator to find accommodation. There were no visible hotels, but there were some lodges. We tried to go to one but the road leading to it was unlit and untarred. I refused to proceed because we didn’t know the neighbourhood and associated dangers. I insisted that we went to the police station to inquire. The police officer on duty called the one he thought was an option but it was fully booked. He said the nearest place we could get accommodation was in the next town, Belfast, which was about 50 km away. After our episode earlier, I insisted that we put up in the car at the police station. My husband refused and insisted that we went to Belfast. The road was even worse. It was extremely dark and ours was the only car on it. Who knew why other people weren’t using it? What if there was a history of sinister things happening on it? I was back to saying my prayers again.

People get raped and butchered in the comfort of their own homes in South Africa, and there we were moving around in dark places whose history we didn’t even know.  There can’t be worse folly than that. Eventually we got to Belfast and saw an arrow leading to The Royal Belfast Hotel. I had never been so happy to see a building, any building in my life before! Upon getting into the premises, we discovered that it was just a seedy backpacker’s accommodation, nothing at all royal about the place, but who cared! Certainly not me! I’m usually picky about accommodation but I was so thrilled to be off the road, inside a building where I could lock a door!

Inside the 'hotel'. To the right of the wash basin is the toilet

I hope I never have to go through what I went through that day. I remember watching a Steven Segal movie where he left a note for his nemesis written, “The anticipation of death is worse than death itself.” I tell you, if you didn’t know already, feeling endangered is the worst thing ever! We might not have been in danger, but I believe we were. If it were up to me, I’d never have travelled with 2 small kids into the dark night not knowing what dangers were lurking out there. I would have quickly looked for accommodation before sundown. In Shona we say kumhanya hakusi kusvika, rushing isn’t necessarily arriving. I would have gladly put up at the police station. Safety means more to me than comfort. Every time I think about that night, I get shivers down my spine. Who said there’s security in numbers? Sometimes the risk is actually higher than when you are on your own. 

Mpumalanga Accident

Traffic Jam on the Joburg-Mpumalanga highway after the accident

Yesterday I passed by the scene of a really bad pileup in Mpumalanga where 4 people lost their lives. A driver caused the accident after making a U-turn on the highway. One reckless driver and 4 people lost their lives. I was so disturbed I struggled to sleep. Hundreds, if not thousands, more were affected because traffic flow was delayed by quite a few hours. Road regulations were not made to piss us off; they’re for our own safety. Children get orphaned, spouses are widowed, parents lose their children because of what look like minor violations of these regulations. I continue to thank God every time I get home safely from any outing. There's so much that can go wrong.  Be safe on the roads. 

The whirlwind that formed around the accident scene

My 2 Cents on the life and death of Senzo Meyiwa

Just as disgraced top athlete Oscar Pistorius has started his new life as a jail bird for the shooting death of his girlfriend ReevaSteenkamp, and while ShrienDewani is still singing the blues in court for allegedly hiring hit men to shoot his bride Annie Dewani, Orlando Pirates goalkeeper and BafanaBafana skipper is gunned down, purportedly in a robbery.

It’s tear-jerking even for someone like me who doesn’t follow South African soccer. A young, healthy sportsman in the prime of his career and life itself smoked out of the planet just like that. Senzo had a lot to contribute to his nation, his soccer team, his community, and last but not least, his family. His death reminded me of reggae star, LuckyDube’s equally senseless death at the hands of thugs who wanted his car. I wish there was some dungeon somewhere so we could just throw away criminals, somewhere they can never come back from. Hearing horrendous tales like that puts people in a very vulnerable position. It’s outrageous that people have to constantly look over their shoulders on the roads to see if they are going to be accosted by some lunatic. Now they have to also look over their shoulders while having dinner in the comfort of their homes.  What kind of life is that? You start thinking of booby-traps for your doors when you go to bed, check and recheck if everything is secure, and contemplate security upgrades. You are ready to jump out of your skin at the faintest bump in the night.

Senzo’s family, sports people, soccer fans, politicians, and people from all walks of life are dismayed by his death.  True to what happens when someone popular has died, everybody has lovely things to say about Senzo. Wonderful guy, infectious smile, very helpful to his family and community, great team player and captain.

Senzo was a married man who died at his girlfriend, Kelly Khumalo’s house. His wife, Mandisa, and children never got to see him in his last moments of his life. It was a known fact that he wasn’t a faithful person as he openly posed for magazine pictures with Kelly while still married to his wife.The two women in his life once fought on a street somewhere, which resulted in Kelly being charged with assault. Senzo notably took his mistress’ side and said his wife was the one that started the altercation. No, Senzo, you started it by bringing a third person into your marriage. I hold no moral high ground to lambast him for how he lived his life, I have my own blemishes. But I also have an opinion which I’m entitled to express.

As if the court story hadn’t humiliated Mandisa enough, now she has to deal with the public knowledge that her husband met his death while at his girlfriend’s house, that he spent his last moments with the other woman. The humiliation will persist for some time. I foresee Kelly belting one or two songs, or writing a book about her life with Senzo, how he loved her so much, how she treasures their last few hours he spent with her, probably how he took a bullet for her and died in her arms. She wrote a book about her convicted killer ex-boyfriend, JubJub. She could be writing another now.

This story also exposes the double standards that society employs when dealing with men and women. If a married woman of as much high standing as Senzo had died at her boyfriend’s house, her transgressions would have overshadowed whatever good deeds she performed in her living years. The scandal would have stunk like a skunk. 

I won’t go to town about Kelly as a home wrecker, she didn’t have a contract with Mandisa. The one to blame for Mandisa’s humiliation is Senzo. He made a choice to be with another woman while his marriage still subsisted. I’ve heard many sisters accuse other women of taking their husbands, and I don’t subscribe to that line of thinking. No one abducts another’s husband, maybe at knife or gun point, but certainly not at vagina point. Men make a decision to walk – one, two,three – towards another woman. But I digress. My issue here is that a lot is left unsaid when someone like Senzo Meyiwa dies.

I won’t get a lot of love from Buccaneers, but that’s OK. I’m not writing this to get some love. Senzo Meyiwa’s death is a tragic and senseless robbery of a person who had a lot to contribute to the lives of many people. It’s shameful and depressing for South Africa to have such high crime levels, especially gun-related ones. It’s just too sad and words fail me.

Senzo was evidently a very good person to a lot of people. But Senzo was quite rough around the edges. Senzo Meyiwa was an audacious philanderer who juggle women off the field as he juggled balls on the field. It emerged after his death that he had three or four other children with as many women.He cheated on his wife, and by default his children, and broke their hearts.  In one of his last pictures on earth, he’s with his mistress and her sister, having fun. Those pictures are the ones his children with see when they are old enough to look up things online. They will see that he left their mom and spent his last moments with the other woman. In my opinion, that kind of desecrates his memory. A number of women in my circle also had a few words to say about this married man who died at his lover’s house. One friend said if she were confronted with a similar situation, she would just heal her heart with the money that he left, with a little help from a Ben 10. My sister said she just wouldn’t bother to shed her precious tears. And what would I do? I would probably sit in a corner, on the blanket meant for the widow, and request that they dim the lights in that corner. Dim the lights so that I could discreetly dig into a bag of my comfort food, mild Nandos chicken.

How Senzo lived his life, however, won’t change how I feel about the manner in which he died. At the end of the day it is between him and God.  I remain revolted and enraged that his life was taken prematurely. How did human life become so cheap?”

I pray for Senzo’s soul to rest in peace. May the good Lord take care of his loved ones at this very sorrowful time, especially those that depended on him financially. I will be praying that the perpetrators of this atrocity are brought to book and get life imprisonment, since South Africa does not subscribe to the death penalty, so that they never know freedom in their lives ever again. I pray for his wife to find strength to go on, toeventually show her face in public after suffering the humiliation of her husband dying at his girlfriend’s house.

When the shoe is on the other foot...

Stories like this one have always totally perplexed me. South African criminals are amazingly quite aware of their rights when the long arm of the law catches up with them.
I had a friend who worked for an organisation that fought for the rights of prisoners, and she was inundated by calls from the said prisoners to help them out when they felt their rights were being infringed upon in prisons.
Some lamented being moved to a prison far away from their families, yet they were in prison for murder - which is taking away other people's loved ones permanently.
Rights come with responsibilities, but these selfish, cruel people think when it comes to them, the system should bend over backwards to make their lives comfortable.
Meantime, who is making those they wronged comfortable? Criminals should know that they are locked up not because they are model citizens. They are there because they performed bad deeds, and bad deeds must be punished.
I'm not advocating for prison abuse, I'm just saying criminals should not end up looking more comfortable than the people they tormented before they got caught.