I rushed to the streets this other gloomy day to complete a
mission. People looked at me in an unusual matter and it didn't bother me that
much. I was off to complete a mission and I concluded in my mind that the
expression on my face said it all. I didn't have to explain myself to them.
That mission made me walk as fast as a mother rushing to check what was
bothering her child who gave a cry of terror. I was rolling, my hands itchy. “If
only I could get there on time,” I said.
This mission I had was not prepared for, but hell I was
going and no one would stop me. That nasty look on those women at the street were never that offensive, they never knew what was on mind… “Fuck! Let them
judge me, I don’t care. I have been in this route before and this time I will
get the desired results.”
“Hella ngwanyana!” It might have been the third time hearing
this woman say these words but the last time was very hash, it did capture my
attention after all. Politely I turned to her and asked, “Is there anything I
can do for you mama?” Looking like a helpless mother, longing to see her son
who left twenty years ago to buy bread she said to me, “Why are walking these
streets half naked?”
My silence became so loud I looked deep in the eyes of this
woman and started trembling. My eyes holding tears as though I was balancing
water in my hand, hoping that I’d reach home to quench the thirst of my ill
mother in her death bed. It was then that I realised how angry I was. Reality
whispered in my ears and said, “Your mission was to murder him. Are you sure
you still want to continue with it?” Still looking at this woman, I was lost
for words and broke the silence by saying, “Oh my God…I have reached the point
of insanity.”
How could I have left home half naked? What happened to the
shy girl who never even liked the presence of her mother while bathing? “Holy
Mother of God I really am going crazy!” Scared to look at myself to witness
this half naked body that left the house to complete a mission, a mission that
almost confirmed my insanity. I moved my stilled eyes to the street and people
like me were surprised, waiting for some kind of drama. My tears rushed down my
cheeks. I looked down in shame and I turned to the woman who stood there in
wonder, anticipating my next move. I gave her a hug and said, “Thank you.”
Walking back home, my betrayal mind tortured me with
questions that I couldn’t answer. “He cheated on you, so what? Are you crazy?”
“No,” I answered, “I am just a damsel in distress, waiting for someone to take
my anger away. Insanity was not part of the mission. ”
(Not a true story)
