An incomplete mission

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)