THE BYO STORY August 2020 (1)

SHORT STORY This world!

The air is still even though fans try helplessly to stir it. The congregants irritably fan themselves with note-
books and hymnbooks. On the red carpet, the glass pulpit shines at the front, with sound monitors facing
it. The church is fully packed with other congregants watching everything from the screen in the tent
outside of the church.
“David! What are you looking for on top of the building when you are supposed to be in the battle with other
men? My brother, my sister, what are you doing in your area of temptation? You know very well that when you
go there, you fall prey to that sin from which the grace of God through Jesus Christ, gave you power over. Run
away like Joseph!” he emphatically says as he runs to the left.
“Yes! Go deeper man of God!” says a gentleman in a grey suit as he has risen to his feet. The keyboard man plays
the strings gently like a swift river. The babies are crying louder and their mothers are forced to leave the church
and attend to them. The youth at the back raw are busy exchanging messages through WhatsApp, laughing at the
usher who missed a loop when he was putting on his belt.
After a few more minutes of preaching, there is an altar call and people queue to be anointed by the pastor while
others buy bangles. I watch carefully and wonder why people have faith in plastic bangles while the pastor has
at least three body guards. I remain sited and when my mother looks at me with her sharp piercing eyes, I look
aside. My friend Darren queues with the rest of the congregants to have his forehead stumped with the anointing
oil. Other congregants fall down, roll uncontrollably, scream while others kneel down with their hands lifted up.
I left the church, ignored my mother’s car and waited for Darren outside the gate. I patience managed to stretch
beyond waits for him for over twenty minutes. Darren feels so refreshed after the anointing, it is as if it was a new
him, in a new day. We walk for a few hundred meters without saying a single word to each other. Our tongues
are later n untangled as they chat on our way to the bus terminus. We were like brothers with the same blood
flowing through our veins.
After dropping off at the bus stop, we waste no time and head straight home. Darren sits on the sofa while
waiting for my novel he has been wishing to read and he has finally bought his own copy. It is only him and my
mother in the sitting room. It takes me even longer to return as I search for the book under piles of my other
writings. The only thing that I noticed was that Darren’s eyes were shining brighter than ever before but I never
took it seriously. I walk him to the gate since it was my turn to prepare supper.
It has been a long day at school as I had one lecture after the other. After supper, I lie on my bed chatting with
my friends. I realize that Darren had put my mother’s picture as his profile picture on WhatsApp! I wonder
how, when and where he got that picture from. I was sure that he had her phone numbers as well. In a few
days, Darren was doing driving lessons and renting an apartment in town. One morning, I went to look for my
adapter in my mother’s bedroom and I found Darren still asleep in my mother’s blankets. The adapter slipped
from my shaking hands and fell to the floor, breaking into three pieces. Darren opens his eyes so wide; no word
comes out of his mouth as he sees the deep feeling of betrayal from my face. I dash out of the room, straight to
my bedroom. I couldn’t even feel his toes, my throat is too dry and even the water from the deepest seas cannot
submerge the betrayal inside me.
There is a knock at the door, a light push but the door is locked. I don’t want to talk to anyone as my world was
crumbling down. Many thoughts crisscross her mind as I lie there helplessly, imagining my mother dating my
best friend. My mother always says that she has no money, but she has money to rent an apartment for Darren,

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buy him clothes, expensive jewelry and paying for his driving lessons. I can’t go to school or even concentrate.
The feelings of betrayal by those I love the most, isolation and pretense terrorize my entirety. My mother’s expla-
nations are just words full of lies and I wonder her protective instincts have gone.
“Brighton, my son. Please understand how I feel. I am down on my knees begging you. I can’t go lower than this,”
she says.
“Spare me that pretense! I am not falling close to your games of deception. Tell me mother, why my best friend?
How could you be so heartless?” There is a light tap on the front door and Darren walks in.
“Traitor! You betrayed my trust. You pretended as if you were visiting me, unknowingly that you were after my
mother.” I felt like punching him in the nose but he wasn’t worth it. My mother had never seen me so animated
like a tiger ready to pounce. “No need to explain. You are old enough to make your own choices. Let me give you
love birds the space and privacy you need.” They stand dumb folded shaken to the marrow. In a few minutes I
drag my packed bags and force myself out of the house no matter how much they beg her to stay. Instead, their
pleas fuel the burning fire inside me.
Hours turn into days and days into weeks thereof. Months pass and there is no sign of me. Many times, I con-
templated on burning Darren inside his apartment. In fact, I had a bottle of petrol and a box of matches under
my bed, but so many times a still small voice dissuaded me from doing it. My mother got the shock of her life
when she found Darren with his girlfriend in his apartment after series of unanswered calls or visits to the house
like he used to. Out of the three cars she had, only one was working properly. The gap between her and Darren
was getting larger each day and he could not fill the gap I had left. Midnight tears fall unseen and witnessed by
her wet pillows as she wonders how she can make amends to our lost relationship. I had changed my phone
number and Darren is nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t even come to church and his mother looks at her with
disgust. She has no one, as she had lost her friends when she was trapped in a web of lust. She feels like every
sermon is meant to gun her down and she thought she deserved all this somehow. In her solitary place she had
repented and prayed for restoration.
The phone rings and she lazily walk to the sitting room to answer it. The voice is strange but common. The voice
only says ‘I am coming home.’ The feeling of guilt and shame shatter her heart into pieces. She stands there dumb
folded and isolated like the sun, far away in the sky so blue. Before she could gather her thoughts and prepare for
the confrontation, a car stops at the gate. Her heart pounds as if to escape out of her chest. The crushing sound
of gravel could be heard. Dark clouds creep in, increasing darkness and emptiness in the room. I lightly tap the
door and storm in towards my frightened mother who doesn’t know what to expect. She stands, wide eyed with
her mouth wide open and I walk to her and hug her mother with tears running down my happy face. My mother
cannot hold herself; she sobs like a toddler whose candy fell out of the school bus through the window.
“I know I did hurt you so much. I allowed the devil to…. I…..” she tried to justify herself in the middle of sobs.
“There is no need for you to justify yourself to me. I forgave you a longtime ago. If I had not forgiven you, I
wouldn’t be here. I love you so much and God loves you more,” I managed to say. My mother has never seen such
maturity from me. The love warmed her from deep inside and gave her courage to rise again and run the race
ahead. We never saw Darren again and I was happy that he was out of the picture and out of our lives. Darkness
covers the sky and a heavy down pour follows there off.
WRITTEN BY:
ONESIMO “OUZY” NGCOTSHA
Compiled by:
Dumisani Albert Matewe
[email protected]
+26377 9 966 606

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WHAT DOES WLivominegnBareeauaty
IT MEAN TO BE A
BTendai Dahwa
B WOMANeing raised by two phenomenal women who eing a woman means to be strong and resilient.
are my mother and my grandmother has great- At times you have to be docile because the world
ly shaped my perception of being a woman. It has not learnt how to embrace strong women, espe-
has made me realize that being a woman is more than cially if they are of colour. As a woman, I walk with
just biology and gender being socially constructed. my head held high because I know that I am a future
To me, being a woman means being brave enough to nurturer for all my unborn children, I know that I
face head on whatever challenge that comes my way. I am the missing rib for that Adam out there, and most
am capable of penetrating the spaces that the society importantly I am independent. It may seem coy but I
considers “predominately men” yet still preserve my can do anything if I set my mind to it.
roles and duties as a woman. I am not afraid to voice
out my thoughts, especially when it comes to injus- BGirly
tices, all kind of injustices. I am intelligent, confident, eing a woman means being able to be vulnerable
sassy and analytic. I will not be belittled by negative yet courageous enough to be both firm and kind.
perceptions of other people, I know myself, my worth I take pride in being a woman because it defines who
and my value. I love dressing up, smelling nice and I truly am. I am strong, I am willed.
showing up.

I am dramatic and emotional sometimes. I love being Unapologetically I am a woman, proud and happy
a woman and I wouldn’t have it any other way. In because in it I am truly defined.
celebration of National Women’s Day and in honor of
the 64th anniversary of the historic event that birthed IMosky
the women’s day celebration in South Africa, I decid- recently heard someone tell me that “all women are
ed to share the different perspectives on what exactly good at is being beautiful”. Initially it angered me
it means to be a woman from five amazing young until I realised how right they were.
women dear to me. All that women are good at is being beautiful.
Walk out onto the streets and everywhere you look,
BBongie You will see women doing what they do best beauti-
eing a woman is an amazing and yet daring pro- fully.
fession. I call it a profession because you learn to You will see women caring and loving their sister
survive as a woman, make mistakes and get the same beautifully.
mistake correct the second time around. Despite all You will see beauty in the way women celebrate the
the downs it comes with, being a woman is an adven- achievements of others,
ture. With all the efforts of taking care of others and Even when they have not yet achieved it themselves.
yourself, running a household, your job, dressing up, You will see beauty in the way women hustle,
getting new looks and looking at your self in the mir- From the mothers selling in the streets to the CEO’s
ror and say, “Wonder Woman where did you come in their proudly owned businesses.
from?”. It’s an amazing journey that has a thousand of You will see passion bleeding into everything they do,
chapters and countless pages. Because they do it beautifully.
Being a woman is amazingly difficult and amazingly You will see beauty in the way women stand up for
fun at the same time. others and make sure their voices are heard.
You will see the greatest beauty in the way women

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have never stopped reaching their potential since Being a woman means to be chosen by God himself,
the very beginning of time. Selected and trusted to birth nations, generations
This world would be an ugly place without women, upon generations,
Because women are beautiful, gorgeous even. All born from her and on her back find a bed.
Women are the living and loud definition of beauti- She’s precious, a pearl,
ful. She’s complete,
“Whatever road you choose, however many roads She’s perfect in her imperfections,
you travel, I hope you choose not to be a lady, [in- All the scars and wrinkles tell a story about who she is
stead] I hope you find some way to break the rules and where she’s been,
and make a little trouble out there. And I also hope Through fire and beyond,
you will choose to make some of that trouble on To be a woman is to be myself,
Not apologetic …
behalf of other women” - Nora Ephron. And all this is just the introduction of what being a
woman truly means.
WZinhle
hat does it mean to be a woman? A simple O
question but not an easy one to answer with- D
out praising too much or undermining even more, O
but that’s the character of a woman, complex and K
curious… O
Being a woman means dedication, B
She’s a leader, she’s compassionate, IM
She’s affectionate, she’s complex.
She’s delicate,
She’s fragile yet strong,
She’s brave and beautiful,
She’s curvy and cute,
She’s all the words can describe,
Yet so complicated nothing can define her.
As a woman, I am complete.
Created to perfection with great precision,
Nothing about me is a mistake,
I was created whole and beautiful.
To be a woman means strength,
Smiling at the face of fear,
Standing up for what I believe in,
Being independent.
Being a woman means courage,
Standing when no one is willing,
Looking up when nothing is working,
Kneeling in prayer when everything is failing,
Standing up for multitudes and believing on some-
one higher than your being.
A woman should be the closest person to God.
For she is entrusted with nurturing and procreating
God’s handiwork,
She’s entrusted with a heart as soft and loving,
Yet fearless and daring,
She’s donned with beauty and a belt of favour sur-
rounds her waist.

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